Daddy's Little Scoundrel
by Strawberry Requiem
Summary: Hawke discovers her father's grimoire and the passages within that spell out his life prior to his wife and children. She seeks to uncover Malcolm's dark past as she deals with her own life issues and misaadventures. Rated for the possibility of language and adult situations. (F)Hawke x Anders.
1. Chapter 1

Constructive criticisms and reviews are appreciated.

Dragon Age Origins and II belong to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

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Leaving home was surprisingly easier than Hawke had imagined. As she charged through the Wilds with Carver at her side and the Darkspawn hot on their heels, she had fabricated this elaborate fantasy about standing in the doorway of the home their father had built for them in Lothering. The memories would come flooding in like the overflow of a river after a heavy rain. There would be meals they shared around the splintered oak table, her father, jumping out from dark places to give the three children a fright, only to send them screaming in terror out the door, and of course, there were other things, but most involved the departed Malcolm who had died three years prior as a result of a misfortunate encounter with a Darkspawn that had strayed from its hovel in the Deep Roads to terrorize humans and elves alike.

What really happened was nothing of the sort.

She and Carver burst through the door, causing Bethany to jump about a foot in the air. She clutched her chest desperately before noticing her twin and older sister, both caked in blood and having a troubled look in their eyes. It didn't take words to know that something grim was amiss, something that would probably cause their way of life to change, and soon. "The both of you are back from Ostagar rather soon; you just missed two Wardens coming through to restock their supplies; they took that strange Lay Sister who was at the Chantry with them-"

"-Now is not the time to chit-chat, Bethany! The Darkspawn army are marching towards Lothering, and fast. We were about an hour ahead of the main group!" Carver's voice shook as he howled. Everything was so dramatic, so urgent with Carver; he was such a tense young man, especially at eighteen. But, they lived in a troubled world and he was trying his best to be the man that his mother and two sisters needed.

A wry smirk crossed Hawke's face at her brother's words. "Well, I think we have a _little_ time for chit-chat. We _were_ an hour ahead of them." Everything was always one big joke with Claudia Hawke, even with pressing matters at hand. It frustrated her mother to no end, and would often scold with 'you're just like your father', which the young woman chose to view as a compliment rather than an insult. But, the way she saw it, they needed to be able to see the bright side at a time of despair. Sure, their homeland was in shambles, but it could be worse. Not much worse, but worse, nonetheless.

"This isn't a time for joking, Claudia." Chastised their mother as she headed into the room. Unlike most of the Lothering citizens, she had actually heeded the warnings that those young Wardens had given and started to prepare to leave. They had no money, or anything of monetary value, but what they did have held value sentimentally. Most of their possessions were far too large to haul out of town, but she kept the key from her old Estate in Kirkwall, a shriveled rose that Malcolm had given her when they had met, and a chain necklace that her children had scrounged and saved for to give her for her birthday. "If there's anything that the three of you want, you should go and grab it now. We should leave soon, permitting the Darkspawn are really as close as you say."

Carver and Claudia followed Bethany into the room they had shared for the seven years they lived in Lothering. It was a small room, hardly big enough for their three beds, but it was home. On late nights, the two sisters would stay up, talking about boys and pretty clothes that they one day hoped to afford, much to Carver's dismay. But, there were also the times that they'd construct forts out of their blankets and pretend to be brave warriors fighting for the honor of Ferelden against dragons, and Darkspawn and evil soldiers who fought for a power-mad Arl looking to ensnare the throne from under Marik. Of course, Claudia was much too old for such games by the time that they moved to Lothering, but, it didn't stop her from rekindling her youth on occasion and donning the wooden sword like her siblings. Speaking of wooden swords, Carver went straight for the one balanced on his headboard as his prize to bring as they fled. Their father had carved it for him, being surprisingly skilled with a knife for a mage, as a birthday present.

Bethany's prize was little more than a cloth doll stuffed with hay. It was her first toy, and bore a striking significance to her childhood. She couldn't fathom going on without it. But, with their trinkets secured, their sister was without.

Claudia had outgrown toys long ago; she had given them to some village children prior to moving the last time. Her possessions these days were strictly practical: her daggers, which cost her three crowns, the armor she was wearing, which was standard issue for all of the soldiers at Ostagar, and some dresses she wore when working as one of the Barmaids at the local tavern. Seeing as she wasn't about to put on the dresses she owned to take with, there was nothing left to bring. "I think I'll travel light." Remarked the woman, brushing a lock of her red hair from out of her eye. But, as she headed out of the room, she thought of their father's grimoire. If anything bore sentimental value, that old, leather-bound book of spells did. "Aren't you going to take father's grimoire, Bethany?" She questioned.

"No. Father taught me all of his spells. I have no need for it as all of his spells are in my grimoire."

Now at the door, waiting for Claudia, Bethany, Carver, and Leandra watched anxiously as she stood there, now completely enthralled by the book.

"Are you coming?" Questioned their mother, wringing her hands nervously. They needed to leave, and soon if they were going to make it out before the horde got to them. She was worried for her children, and since she couldn't defend them with sword or with magic, all she could do was hope that they made it out in time. It was now that she regretted her life as a charmed socialite in Kirkwall. Sure, she had fabulous tales to tell of parties, in which the guests were dressed in grand regalia and danced until sunrise, but, such stories did not prepare her children for the harsh world that her and Malcolm brought them into. But, nothing could have prepared her for a Blight.

Looking back into the small house's rooms, Claudia ran to her parents' bedroom. "Go on without me, I'll be right there!" While she wasn't a mage, something compelled her to go and get her father's tome. Perhaps holding the book and exploring its pages would help her to understand what kind of man her father was prior to running away to Ferelden with his pregnant bride. Claudia dropped to her knees beside the bed, testing the planked floors for the weak spot that all of the Hawke family knew of. As she expected, the grimoire was under the loose floorboard on the side of the bed where he slept. It beckoned to her, crooned her name softly as she plucked it from its spot and tucked it securely between her breastplate and her abdomen for safekeeping.

With the book claimed, leaving the house and Lothering was easy. Claudia had no _real_ friends, save the men who often came around the tavern to flirt with her and have her pour ale. Nothing ever felt like home. Nowhere ever felt like it wanted her to be there. As the daughter of an apostate, the life of a nomad was one Claudia knew all too well. Growing close to a place or to people who weren't her family would only cause unnecessary emotions when it was time to leave again. It made it easier this way, to be indifferent about places and faces.

But, having no _human_ friends didn't mean that she refrained from making animal friends. Claudia had brought one of the Mabari that were being deployed at Ostagar with her. It was a rather playful dog, and smarter than most people she happened to meet, she wagered. The beast even found its way to her side after the battle was lost and traveled with her and Carver back to their home. It resumed its place at her side as she darted off in order to keep up with her family.

Five minutes after leaving Lothering with little but the clothes on their backs, Carver slowed his footing. His finger fluttered over his pursed lips to signal that he needed complete silence. His crystalline eyes darted around the landscape, looking for discrepancies or abnormalities. Even his nostrils flared as he inhaled in order to take in any strange scents. Though, it was his ears that caught wind of something strange before his other senses. Off in the distance, he could hear the inhuman roar from Darkspawn. This sound, this terrifying shriek was burned into his memory from the battle. He remembered their grotesque faces as they snarled and tore apart the soldiers he fought alongside without any mercy. "The darkspawn are near! Run!" Boomed the boy as he took off into a brisk sprint as soon as he was sure that the Hawke women had heeded his warning.

"I thought you said… that we had an hour." Panted Leandra. While a thin woman, it had been quite some time since she had to run like this. At the moment, however, she just felt lucky to be able to keep up with her three children.

Claudia, who was fronting the group as she was the most seasoned fighter, laughed slightly at her mother's discontent. "Apparently the Darkspawn are rather impatient and couldn't wait to see mine and Carver's beautiful faces again." There wasn't a shred on sincerity in her tone, but there hardly ever was. Still, the woman unsheathed her daggers that hungered for another taste of Darkspawn blood. It wasn't every day that she got to use them on real, living, targets.

Within moments, a grouping of six or seven Darkspawn lumbered into the clearing where they stopped. Bethany, who had been guarding their mother, had since formed a barrier of fire between the older woman and the battlefield in order to give her some protection. She was nervous; usually, her magic amounted to hushed practice behind closed doors. Getting to spell cast out in the open was a welcome change, though she wasn't sure how comfortable she was with her first outing being against the blighted Darkspawn.

Already, Claudia and Carver were cutting through the horrid creatures with precision. While the eldest of the Hawke children clearly had more time to master her craft, Carver was holding his own quite well. He couldn't help the boyish smirk that crossed his face as he felled the first of their opponents and his sister was still weaving her elaborate rogue's dance about the three that had decided to focus in on her. Still, he couldn't help the pang of jealousy, even as he charged at the next target. Everyone prided Claudia on her skill with traps and poisons, but he was overlooked. These envious thoughts bubbled to the forefront, driving him to strike harder, and to hit more efficiently. He had to be better, because men were supposed to protect and look after women, not the other way around. Carver needed to be the man that the Hawke clan lacked.

Although surrounded by Darkspawn, Claudia did not seem too worried. While the creatures were so focused on their movements rather than her, the woman quickly maneuvered out from the center and reappeared behind one of the monsters. This was easily her favorite strategic tactic, especially seeing as the Darkspawn weren't smart enough to register her sudden change of location right away. So, they wound up striking one another as she lashed at their vulnerable backs.

Even the dog joined in. He viciously tore through the throats and limbs of any Darkspawn that got too close to his mistress or her family. It was obvious that he was bred for battle and was ready to take out anything that threatened those he viewed as part of his pack. And, this family was his pack, so he was going to defend them with his life.

It wasn't long before the fires protecting their mother dissipated and every one of the Darkspawn that had charged them was little more than disembodied corpses, so they moved on. The fight only made them more cautious, more fearful that another wave of Darkspawn was just beyond every ridge of Lothering's twisting landscape. Naturally, they encountered more of the foul beasts, seemingly to no end. Soon, they would be weary from battle. And, it was obvious that they did not know where they were running to. They hadn't enough money to afford a home in the nearby village or Redcliffe, nor did they know anyone who would willingly take in Leandra and her three children, one of which being an apostate. The Chantry wasn't even a viable temporary solution. Templars were always in and around those holy places, so while Bethany was quite adept at hiding her magic, there would always be discomfort amongst the Hawkes for that very reason.

Fatigued, the four of them knew that eventually, they would need to stop and rest. By this point, they had been running for the better part of an hour, and were quite exhausted. But, the Darkspawn kept them on their toes. They rounded a corner, hoping for a reprieve of sorts, only to find quite the peculiar scene unfold in front of them.

Before them were a man, a Templar judging by his armor, and an unarmed, though rather martial-looking woman with red hair. Several Hurlock surrounded them, but one of them sprinted forward, knocking the man backwards. The woman seemed of little concern, seeing as it howled menacingly at the man and prepared to strike. Rather than idly watching as the Darkspawn killed her companion, the woman snatched up the shield and sword that the Templar was wielding. "They will not have you." She crooned softly to the man before rising to her feet and turning her attention to the monster before her. The creature lurched forward in order to attack, but the red-haired woman was much too quick and pounced upon it. She brought the broad side of her blade to its throat and started to cleave its head off. "You cannot have him." She cried out. The Hurlock gurgled on its own blood, unable to struggle against her weight. With one last plea, the Darkspawn was completely decapitated and the woman returned to her Templar companion, relatively unaware that the two of them were being quickly surrounded by another group of the Hellish beasts.

The Hawke children sprang into action, knowing that the woman would be unable to protect the injured man against so many. Carver and Claudia were rather unabashed about venturing close to the strangers, seeing as they had nothing to hide. However, Bethany was cautious, staying as far away as possible and resorting to her magic when only absolutely necessary. She was not fond of the situation they had found themselves in at all, and was hoping for some divine intervention to spare her from having to socialize with the Templar after all was said and done.

With the Darkspawn again having been reduced to bloody heaps being absorbed by the supple Earth, it was completely understandable for the strange man and woman to turn their attention to the Hawke family. "You're a mage." Barked the man, his cold stare resting upon Bethany. "The order dictates-" A bolt of pain surged through him, causing him to cut himself off, but he seemed all but keen on backing down from his duties as a Templar to let this one apostate free.

"I see the Maker has a sense of humor." Scoffed Bethany. She sounded a bit like her father and older sister with these words, though she wasn't joking in the slightest. "First Darkspawn and now a Templar." There seemed no way out of this for her. If she were to turn around, all she would find would be the decimated village of Lothering. But, if she tried to run ahead, this man would capture her and drag her off to the Circle Tower. Allowing either such fate was no way to pay her sister back for eighteen years of protection.

"The order dictates-" The man repeated, a little more demanding.

Still, the red haired woman rolled her eyes and cut him off this time. "Wesley, these people saved us. I'm sure the Maker would understand." This woman was clearly the voice of reason between the two, as well as being a skilled fighter. But, there was no point in sacrificing the people who had helped them when there was something much more urgent at hand; they did owe them, after all.

Sighing, the man relented to his female companion. When he returned back to his Knight-Commander, he would have to lie about this experience as to not land himself in trouble. While Ferelden was one of the more lax Circles throughout Thedas, they still needed to bring all of the apostates they apprehended to its doors.

"I thank you for helping us." The woman stated formally, her attention on all four of the Hawkes now. "My name is Aveline Vallen, and this is my husband Wesley. We were just fleeing Ostagar when we were ambushed by Darkspawn." She explained, glancing over the group as well. They seemed to be living the same story as her and her husband, judging by the blood-soaked soldiers and the fact that they were fleeing the ravaged village down the hillside. Her attention found the Mabari hound, who had since been sniffing around the corpses for any prizes worth the canine's attention. Having a distinct love of dogs, the woman headed over and tousled his ears playfully. "You're a good war hound!"

The dog wuffed gratefully at the attention, accepting Aveline's pats gleefully. The dogs that served at Ostagar, they received very little attention and were corralled like cattle until it was time for a fight. So, being appreciated was clearly a welcome change for the Mabari.

"My name is Leandra Hawke." Graciously replied their mother. She could tell that this woman was about her eldest's age, perhaps two or three years older. And, she seemed nice enough to get her husband to refrain from turning in Bethany, so she would be just as polite to her. "These are my children: Claudia," she motioned to her eldest, "Bethany, and Carver." Each of the twins were pointed to in turn.

It didn't take Leandra's announcement that these were her children for Aveline to notice. All three of them bore the same chin and nose that the older woman had. Bethany and Carver had the same raven hair, and Claudia and Carver had the piercing blue eyes that were embedded in Leandra's face.

"Most people just call me Hawke." Added Claudia as an afterthought. Claudia was a bit of a mouthful for most of her regulars to remember, so when serving ale, she figured that her last name would be much easier for them to recall; it definitely paid off, seeing as she received a hefty sum in tips. That, and it helped to keep strangers out of her personal business.

Frowning, Carver hated that they had no plan as to where they were going and that they had two more heads to be concerned with now. It was difficult enough to defend their mother, but the injured Templar was an even bigger liability. Plus, he couldn't be sure that this Wesley fellow wouldn't turn on them as soon as they found safety. While Carver was undecided about his feelings concerning mages, he definitely did not want to face the repercussions of harboring a mage as he had been doing his whole life. "We need to figure out where we're going." He spat venomously, but mostly towards his sister, seeing as she had become the self-appointed leader of this task.

"We have family in Kirkwall, an estate too. Perhaps we can flee there." Suggested Leandra. They had since begun a slowed pace onwards, but still ever weary of more Darkspawn. Aveline and Wesley were following along for now, seeing as they shared the same goal: survival.

"But the Darkspawn have this place surrounded. The only way out is through the Wilds." Wesley grimly added. Like most of the Templars, he bought into the rumors that the Wilds were infested with maleficar and other horrid nasties that were better when strayed away from. He had even heard that Flemeth and her daughters lived there, but that was common knowledge, bedtime stories told to Ferelden children in order to keep them in line and prevent them from straying away too far. As a Templar, he believed them, but not in the open.

"If it boils down between going back to Lothering or taking my chances in the Wilds, I'll take the Wilds." Without any more debate, Claudia continued along the winding path through the Lothering hillside on the way to the Wilds. She was tired; her legs felt as though they would give way, but this was about survival, so her fatigue was the least of her concerns. There were other people counting on her, people whom she cared about. Succumbing was not an option.

To combat this, the woman decided to front the group again. She was the most nimble and bore the quickest step, so it was only natural that she ran ahead to scout the area. Bethany kept close to their mother, having the closest bond with the woman as well as knowing that if they were ambushed, she was the only one of the group who could still fight whilst distancing herself from the battle. Carver tried to keep up with his older sister, but considering the fact that he wielded much more weighty weapons and his physical stature was much more thick and pronounced than either of his siblings, he was laddered down and had to take up the middle. Waves of Darkspawn occasionally came at them, but this Aveline woman proved a worthy companion and helped to slaughter the fiends with speed and skill.

Crossing another ridge, they reached a clearing, where Wesley had to take a breath. His face was looking rather pale, and his features were sunken and weak. Claudia didn't want to be the one to say it, but it looked as though he was tainted by Darkspawn blood. She had no first-hand experiences with the ailment, but the Gray Wardens back at Ostagar had been talking about it and she happened to overhear the conversation.

Breaking the silence, a huge beast with horns as sharp as blades came into view. It's roar was nothing short of petrifying and its garish face twisted at the sight of the travelers seeking refuge in the south. Taking two steps forward, the Ogre prepared to attack with its oversized club.

At the sight of the enemy at hand, Carver rushed into combat, his sword flailing animatedly in the hopes of landing a hit. He too let out a battle cry, wanting to be the one to administer the death-blow to this impossible being. But, as he was plucked from the ground by one of the large hands, he then realized the grave error he had made. The man caught one final glimpse at the faces of his mother and his sisters as the Ogre smashed him into the ground below, head-first. A loud cracking sounded off, signaling the shattering of just about every bone in his body. After tossing him around a bit longer, much like a child with a rag doll, the beast grew bored of his motionless toy and dropped Carver's lifeless body to the ground. The women in front of him seemed much more interesting anyway.

Claudia was dumbstruck at first. Just moments ago, her baby brother was running behind her, hours ago, they were bickering on which road to take home, but now, he was a lifeless mass and a spent plaything of the Darkspawn. Her mind was a flurry of many emotions, but the most prominent were her anger, her guilt, and her sadness. She was angry at herself for not stopping his impulsive reaction, and guilty because he was so young and it should have been her. Sadness was an understandable response to losing a loved one, but she could not cry. Claudia couldn't even muster a tear when her father died.

The monster that had slew her younger brother was not going to wait for her to mourn, however, so she needed to get herself together. With her daggers in hand, she leapt behind the Ogre and started hacking away at his thighs, which was all she could reach from her height. Aveline was already whittling away at their foe, and had been while the Hawke women were stunned, which Claudia was grateful for. Once Bethany regained her composure, she started weaving her elemental magic at the beast. Even from Claudia's vantage point, she could see the tears that flecked her sister's eyelashes; as cliché as it was, she had the eyes of a hawk.

As the women worked on the beast, the dog found Leandra's side. It rested its muzzle on Carver's chest and whimpered, as if it would rouse him. The Mabari knew he wouldn't rise, so it looked up at the weeping woman with its big brown eyes as its only consolation.

Slowing from blood loss and fatigue, the Ogre stumbled about their battlefield like a drunk in search of his next tankard. It roared feebly, swiping its club around clumsily as it sought another target. Somehow it missed the easy targets that were Leandra and Wesley, and continued to stammer about around Aveline and Claudia. This lapse in the creature's already inferior judgment was opening enough for the eldest Hawke child. She sprang into the air, launching herself at the Ogre's exposed neck and face. Using her thighs, she held onto its neck as she continuously plunged her daggers into its beady eye sockets. Several pained roars escaped as it flailed around in attempt to knock her off, but they were futile. With a low groan, it eventually relented and collapsed onto its back, Claudia still joined to it by the neck. Once more, she sunk her blades in, for good measure, before rising to her feet and heading over to Carver's corpse.

Fat tears streamed down Leandra's face as she brought her son's head into her lap. She was deluding herself into believing that he was only in a deep slumber. "Carver, honey! Wake up! Mummy's here, darling, wake up." She sobbed, brushing his ebony hair behind his ear. But, he did not budge, and her tears only continued to flow as if it were a torrential downpour.

Her two daughters had since joined her side. They both knew that there was nothing that they could say to console their mother, seeing as nothing they said would bring Carver back. He was as dead as their father. "He died in order to protect us." Offered Claudia in order to break the silence. She was no good at these emotional moments, but was trying her absolute best in order to console her distraught mother.

"It should have been you!" Bellowed out Leandra in a heart wrenching wail. "He was your baby brother! You should have stopped him, you should have protected him!" Leandra did not mean her words, not truly, but it was all that she could say in response. Even if it was Claudia, she knew that the pain would be exactly the same. Losing any one of her children would be like a thousand hot knives to the heart. Later, she would surely have to apologize properly for such an outburst.

"Missere, if you would like, I could say a word for him." Wesley was standing about five feet from Leandra, the veins in his face prominent and black. But, even through his weakness, he genuinely wanted to help put the family at ease. He would probably react the same way as this woman if it were Aveline that he lost. When Leandra nodded in response, he took that as his time begin the rite. Everything fell silent in the moments before he spoke again, as if the Maker himself was granting them a reprieve for this moment in order to give Carver a proper send-off. "Maker, we return this young man to your side. Please watch over him and protect him."

"At least father has someone to keep him company now." Hummed Claudia in response, but had her attention diverted by another large horde of Darkspawn surrounding them.

Everyone knew that they were in no condition to carry on with battling. They were all too weak, both emotionally and physically. And, now they were down one fighter. They would be lucky to last through the next five minutes if the Darkspawn continued on at the pace that they were coming at. And, Wesley was looking worse by the second. The man was lucky to be standing, and with their exhaustion, they all knew that they would be unable to guard him from any attacks. It was sort of ironic, surviving Ostagar only to die hours later on the way to escape the battle.

Another harrowing roar sounded off overhead, though the beast it emanated from sounded much larger and volumes more pissed off than the Ogres seemed to sound. Their gazes skittered upwards in unison, landing on a crimson High Dragon perched on a rocky ledge some ways above them. It shook its head groggily, and then took off in flight around the battlefield. Another roar pierced the sky as white-hot flames bolted from its mouth and at the Darkspawn below. As odd as it was, the flames seemed controlled; they only licked at Darkspawn flesh and never even spread to the group of survivors. The Mabari whimpered pitifully at the sight and tucked itself between Aveline and Claudia for safe-keeping. Another burst of fire was released at the monsters, setting the last bit of them aflame. The Darkspawn shrieked in agony as their skin melted off of the bone. Just then, the dragon descended from the sky and touched down to the circular outcropping. It was then engulfed in a peculiar gold miasma that seemed to temporarily blind everyone.

As it dissipated, Claudia and the others were completely befuddled. An old woman was approaching; she was wearing a dress constructed of scales the same color of the dragon they had just seen. Her wild white hair was styled in the same shape as the dragon's horns and in her claw-like grip, she dragged one of the Darkspawn with her. The aforementioned dragon was nowhere to be found, just this odd woman. Who was she?


	2. Chapter 2

I appreciate constructive criticisms and comments.

Dragon Age Origins and II belong to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

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"Well, well…what have we here?" Crooned the strange dragon-woman as she approached. Her stride initially seemed slow, but she was upon the travelers within only three or four steps. And, while she was addressing the group, she seemed far more interested in Claudia than anyone else.

As the woman approached, the Mabari hound whimpered pitifully and hid itself behind Claudia. It knew that whatever magic that this woman had, it was something to be feared. He pressed his pronounced chest into the dirt and used his massive paws to cover his face. Once or twice, he peeked out to make sure everything was alright. But, he wasn't going to risk it.

Everyone but Claudia tensed up as the woman who had just transfigured from a dragon to her current form approached. Her eerie gold eyes were trained on her, which should have caused her blood to run cold. But, a smirk crossed her face. It definitely was a neat little parlor trick that this woman had just performed, though, she was pretty sure that she was a mage and that was some high-tier spell that even her father couldn't master when he was still alive. "That was a nice trick. How does one go about learning how to turn into a dragon?" She asked with a smart tone, the grin still present on her face when the woman was within arm's length of her.

Unexpectedly, the elderly woman clad in drake scales chuckled hoarsely at the comment. Her gold eyes glinted mischievously as she glossed over the rag-tag group of travelers curiously. "Maybe I am the dragon." Chorused the strange woman heartily, her spindly fingers twitched as she spoke. "Lucky for you, the scent of burning Darkspawn flesh does nothing for the appetite. But, my curiosity is piqued. There I was, on my perch, when I watched as a mighty ogre was vanquished. _Now, who could do that_, I wondered." With the way she was looking at Claudia, however, it was clear that she knew who exactly could be accredited with the kill. She was fascinated with the young woman with the blades before her, but, it seemed that interesting people were constantly stopping by as of recent.

"I wonder who." Remarked Claudia with a note of pride riddled in her tone. Honestly, she was proud of the accomplishment, seeing as it was something that very few people attempted and managed to live through. Carver was the true testament of this, but she was trying her best to push him from her thoughts and to repress the memory. Her eyes were fixed on the golden hues of her conversation partner in order to discern what kind of woman she was. It was impossible, it seemed; there was no way that she was going to be able to read this woman's intentions by studying her expression.

Bethany finally worked up enough nerve to leave her distraught mother's side and brave stepping closer to the dragon-woman. Unlike her older sister, she wasn't quite as confident about this woman's trustworthiness and every step was cautious and calculated. She stopped about five paces behind her sister. "I don't mean to sound rude, but who are you, exactly?" Really, Bethany was grateful for the aid, and yet she still feared that this woman would turn on them and devour them like the dragon she had been only moments previous.

The golden eyes that rested on Claudia snapped to Bethany momentary in order to address the question at hand. While her social graces were seriously lacking, she did have the sense enough to look someone in the eyes when she spoke to them. "I go by many names: Asha'bellanar, the Witch of the Wilds...an old hag who talks too much. But, you may call me Flemeth."

When the name _Flemeth_ rolled off the woman's tongue, every living body tensed up momentarily. They had all been familiar with the stories, at least in the way that the Chasind would tell the tales. It was easy to delude oneself into believing the tales to be false, but with a woman who had been a dragon prior to conversing with them standing before them; those tales seemed all but false. No one would believe any of them if they told this story again, but they knew that what they saw was no hallucination.

Claudia adjusted her weight to her left foot as she looked upon the odd woman known as Flemeth. Although the conversation had since moved on from the dragon trick, she was still so enamored by it. If she could turn into such a formidable beast, life would be much easier. When someone made her angry, she could intimidate them with her beastly form. Or, if she needed to travel vast distances, she could just fly herself there. It all sounded rather pleasant. "Could you teach me to turn into a dragon?" Questioned the woman, smiling sarcastically yet again.

Flemeth responded with another raspy chuckle, obviously amused by Claudia's responses to her. "You, I like. If only it took a clever tongue." She paused, looking at Claudia as if there was something about her that mortal eyes could not decipher. That female Warden who had left her hut only days previous received the same peculiar glances, but there was no way that any of them knew that. "Hurdled into chaos, you fight…and the world will shake before you." She said after discovering something about the woman that not even she knew.

Turning away from the travelers, the witch rested her chin in her gauntlet-clad hand momentarily. "Is it fate or chance, I can never decide." Murmured Flemeth to herself as she returned to Claudia. Another smile graced her wrinkled face at the woman. "I have decided: I will aid you and your companions on your escape." Although this decision affected the whole group, Flemeth was more concerned with how Claudia would respond. She was a strong, capable woman, much like that lady Warden she had saved from the Tower of Ishal. Only the utmost respect was paid to such worthy women and Flemeth was more than willing to aid those who had such amiable traits; she wasn't the shriveled old shrew that the legends painted her as…most of the time.

"Just like that?" Hawke was a bit taken aback by Flemeth's sudden proclamation. She hadn't really done anything to warrant the Witch of the Wilds to aid her, nor did she ask for help. But, Claudia was smart enough to not look the gift horse in the mouth and to accept the help that was being given to her. However, most gifts came at a price, and they all knew that. All she could hope for was that the price Flemeth wanted did not involve a shawl made of her flesh, or something as equally painful and disgusting. "There has to be a catch."

Another snort followed the weary response she received. Flemeth knew to expect no less than a little caution from complete strangers. But, she had to commend this woman for knowing that her help came with a cost. And yet, that was how most people worked. It went without saying that she expected recompense for her swooping down and killing the Darkspawn, and then agreeing to help them find safe passage out of the country. "There is always a catch. Life is a catch! I suggest you catch it while you can."

As she spoke, Flemeth took a few steps forward. They could discuss payment at a more appropriate time, but at that moment, they needed to act. She could see the man; she could smell the taint on him. The madness would be on him soon if they did not put him out of his misery. "But before we worry ourselves with payment and with fleeing, we must discuss that man. The taint will not spare him much longer." Her eyes flickered over the red-haired warrior woman who was diligently at his side. They were life-partners, this she knew. But, even her magic could not spare him now.

"I will not allow you to kill my Wesley." Defended Aveline with a growl. Her hand twitched over her husband's blade readily, ready to strike at anyone who dared venture close to her husband with the intention of ending his life.

"Please, Aveline! I can feel the taint coursing through me. "By this point, Wesley was reduced to a heap resting against an outcropping of rocks. He was too feeble to move, and he looked as though death would be upon him shortly. Wesley knew that all he would do was burden the women on their plight to seek safety in the Free Marches. There was no way that he could do that to the woman he loved.

"The only way to save your man now is to have him become a Gray Warden."

Claudia looked to Flemeth questionably. She was at Ostagar, and as she recalled, the last of the Wardens were slaughtered by the Darkspawn. She didn't understand why none of them fled when hope was lost and there was no hope of reinforcements, but it wasn't her place to judge. "All of the Wardens died at Ostagar; I was there."

"Not all, but the last are now beyond your reach." Quipped Flemeth. Her tone denoted knowing much more about the Wardens than she was letting on, but no one seemed keen on prodding. Her eyes danced over the dying Wesley momentarily before returning to Aveline. "There is nothing we can do for him."

Aveline clearly was in no state to end his life. Tears welled in her eyes as she even thought of doing the deed herself. Her eyes lingered over to Claudia momentarily, hoping to find an answer in her eyes. She knew that she couldn't make this choice herself, even though it was hers to decide upon. How could she? Wesley was the love of her life, and if she had it her way, they would hunt down the Wardens that Flemeth had spoken of in order to save him. In her mind, she rationalized it as her only option. But, clearly she was not in a rational mindset. It was best to leave it to someone a bit less emotionally attached to the situation. She turned to Claudia.

"I'll do it, Aveline." Solemnly accepted Claudia. Her hand was already wrapped around a hunting knife she kept in her boot (again, standard issue to all of the soldiers at Ostagar). She knelt over the man, who was obviously in an amount of pain that she could not even wrap her mind around. His dark eyes glossed over her kindly, as if to say that he accepted her decision wholeheartedly. But, they rested on his wife finally. Claudia pointed the tip towards and opening in his armor at the base of his neck. "I'm sorry, Aveline." She said aloud, looking over her shoulder at her new companion with empathy. The only reason why she offered to do such a task was because she doubted if Aveline could; Claudia couldn't do it if it were her mother or sister.

Wesley looked over the blade and put his hands over Claudia's in order to help her guide her blade. For a woman who harbored apostates, she wasn't entirely bad. No, they all were decent people, even the apostate girl. Aveline would be safe with them. "Thank you." His voice was hoarse and pitiful as he spoke, but his twisted face was at least at peace. He was returning to the Maker.

Looking away, Claudia forced the blade into his flesh. He let out a grunt of agony, but went limp almost immediately. Everyone, including the Witch of the Wilds, fell silent in respect for the departed. Two lives had been lost at the hands of the Darkspawn; two young men were cut out of the prime of life and just minutes apart from one another. They all knew that lives were on the line, but it didn't ease the pain any. It didn't make it a less bitter pill to swallow.

Before departing, Claudia was sure to head back over to her lifeless brother. He deserved better than being left for the Darkspawn, but there wasn't anything they could do. Her eyes stayed on the blood-soaked soil as she reached into his armor and grabbed that toy sword that he used to love as a boy. Her fingers caressed the handle, feeling the worn finger shapes that had formed as a result of overuse from him in his youth. Carver had dreams, dreams of being a soldier worthy of legend, dreams that he used to act out with the very wooden sword she now clutched. She claimed it as a memory of him, something to look fondly upon when she was older and may have had a hard time remembering his voice, or how he wore his hair. But mostly, it was for her mother. Leandra couldn't hold her little boy anymore, but she could bring the sword to her chest and remember with fondness a more innocent time.

With Flemeth along, the five women traveled relatively silently. Claudia had honestly expected the witch to turn into the dragon yet again and whisk them off to Kirkwall on her back, but this was still rather the unlikely tale. She watched the woman as they walked, interested in her, and why she took pity upon them in the first place. Still, she wasn't complaining in the slightest. Her only discomfort was that the Mabari she had acquired was traveling several paces behind her and seemed as though he didn't know whether he could trust the woman who had decided to come with them.

Gwaren was still a day's walk on foot, so when the sun begun to set, a makeshift camp was set up. They had no tents, but the Maker permitted them a cloudless night. No one could think of eating, so the three younger women found themselves a comfortable plot of dirt around the fire they had constructed and fell asleep. They would need their strength if they were going to make the rest of the trip to Gwaren in the morning.

Leandra, however, couldn't sleep. The sight of Carver being tossed around like a rag doll repeatedly plagued her when she'd close her eyes. It made it impossible for her to rest. Instead, she sat next to the fire, trying to put her son's last moments out of her mind.

For seemingly hours, she sat like that, silent, though unable to weep any longer. She had completely forgotten about Flemeth until the woman came and took a spot next to her. The witch allowed a moment of peace between them before speaking; she was accustomed to people being frightened of her. In her experience, though, women seemed much more rational, much more willing to see beyond the tales they had heard. After all, the legends never spoke of her torturing or devouring women.

"Your daughter, she is so much like you." Hummed Flemeth calmly. Her attention remained fixed on the flickering flames before her, as if they were speaking to her in hushed tones. It very well may have had something to say, seeing as she conversed with the trees and sang with the wind. Having fire croon to in her ear seemed quite commonplace at this point.

Looking up from the fire, Leandra looked to Flemeth. It was odd, seeing as the witch was so fixated with her daughter. She only assumed that Flemeth was referring to their appearances; she often heard that her children looked more like her than Malcolm. "Both of my girls look a lot like me, but everyone says that Claudia looks more like me in the face. The main difference is the red hair, but she inherited that from my mother. "Pausing, Leandra glanced over at her slumbering girls. She really needed to apologize to her eldest for the outburst, but she was ashamed. No child wanted to hear their mother exclaim that they should have died instead of another.

Flemeth snorted in response to the comment about her children's appearances. The resemblance was sound; she didn't need it explained to her. "I can see that she shares your features, woman. I did not need your explanation." Her remark, though bitter in tone, held no malice. "Your eyes do not see it, but your hearts beat the same. They yearn for the same. It makes me wonder: is it the way she was raised, or the nature of her blood?" Even as she spoke, Flemeth remained transfixed by the lapping embers on the sticks they had found earlier. In a world wrought with turmoil, it calmed her to watch the crackling of the blaze.

"The nature of her blood? I don't think I understand."

"The magic: it courses through her veins so strongly, though she cannot wield it like your other. It flows inside you as well, though diluted. Don't you feel it?" The question was rhetorical in nature and Flemeth did not expect the woman to humor her with a response. She knew that humans without the gift of magic could not feel it if they had the magic in their blood. But, Flemeth could see it, even when they didn't know they had it themselves. It was strong within this family, so strong that the girls practically glowed like beacons before her practiced eyes.

Shifting, Flemeth finally snapped her attention from the fire to Leandra. "But, enough talk. You must sleep if you will make the journey that we must brave tomorrow."

Having made much progress in the previous day, getting to Gwaren was a lot less taxing. The walk was solemn; they were all still trying to cope with the loss of Carver and of Wesley. Leandra hadn't told her children or Aveline about what Flemeth had said, but she wagered that it was for her ears only, anyway. That didn't mean that the cryptic message about how her and Claudia yearned for the same did not haunt her. She had to assume that she meant they both wanted safety and a place to call home.

They arrived at the Gwaren docks by late afternoon. The aquamarine sea was rocky that day as it splashed up against the wooden planks of the docks. Ships from all over were stationed, eager to unload their goods for trade in the vast Denerim marketplace. But, the eye was mostly drawn to all of the bodies. All sorts of people clamored about in hopes of getting on the fastest ship out of Ferelden. With Lothering completely stricken from the map, it was understandable; they had a Blight to contend with. The remaining Hawkes and Aveline were of the same mindset, but without coin or anything else of value, they doubted the ability to seek passage.

"Well, unless you can turn into a sea creature and swim us across the Waking Sea, I don't think we'll be leaving the Gwaren docks today." Remarked Claudia wryly towards Flemeth. She had her back rested against a building, a frown gracing her lips as she watched the lucky few board another ship leaving for the Free Marches. For a fleeting moment, she humored the idea of heading up to Denerim, where she heard Captain Isabela was stationed at this time of year, and joining her crew just to seek passage out of the country.

Flemeth cackled at the jest, finding this girl to be far more amusing than anyone she had met in quite some time. "Only dragons, girl. But do not fret; I did not come all this way with you to spit in your eye as you fall into despair. I'll leave such _pleasantries_ to my daughter." Her mind turned to her unruly girl whom she had sent with the Wardens briefly before returning to the issue at hand. "But first, we must discuss your end of our agreement."

Reaching into her crimson scale garment, Flemeth fished around for a moment before producing an amulet. It was simple: a teardrop shaped blood-red jewel was framed in silver and hung from a chain crafted from the same metal. She dropped it into Claudia's hand after snatching one of them up and looked her in the eyes. "When you get to Kirkwall, you will deliver this to someone. There will be a clan of Dalish elves living outside the city. Ask for the Keeper, Marethari. Do what she asks with the amulet and your debt will be paid." After speaking, she folded the woman's fingers around the amulet gingerly; though her hands, which were clad in claw-like gauntlets, made the gesture seem much more threatening.

Claudia tucked the amulet away in her armor with her father's grimoire and Carver's sword. If the amulet had come from another person, perhaps not the Witch of the Wilds, she would have been more comfortable slipping it around her neck. But, as it was, she was a bit apprehensive. "I understand, but how will this help us get onto one of those boats? Do I have to mutter some magic words and one will appear? Or can we just walk across the water?"

"I think you should watch what you say, sister." Added Bethany with a sigh. Her sister's sharp tongue landed them into trouble many times in their past, but with people who couldn't turn them into toads by looking at them. Angering Flemeth herself was not the best of ideas.

Without bothering to humor the question that was on the table, Flemeth motioned for the other women to follow her as she headed over to one of the boats accepting passengers currently. The crewman who was allowing the people aboard looked at the old woman quizzically, having never seen someone with hair shaped like horns before. Before he could even get a word out, however, Flemeth begun. "These women seek passage to Kirkwall on your ship. And, you will let them and their hound on." Her tone was non-threatening, but there was something not quite right about the way she had spoken.

A peculiar stupor fell over the man temporarily. His eyes glazed over dreamily as he stared at Flemeth, his mouth, slightly agape. He looked as though he was alive, but his mind had left him entirely, but only for just a moment. "Of course, Missere. Right this way." The man gestured for the women to walk up the ramp and into the haul with the other passengers.

Once the three younger women had boarded, dog included, Flemeth turned to Leandra once again. Her face, as always was impossible to read. "Do not blame her for what will occur. The wheels have already begun turning; it is out of her control."

With a second cryptic message, Leandra did not know how to address Flemeth. Neither made sense, and both were about her daughter, which struck her as odd. If the witch had something to say about Claudia, she was wise to bring it up with her first. "I-I don't understa-"

By the time that these words were muttered, Flemeth had disappeared, and the crewman of the ship was attempting to usher Leandra to board. The woman stood, stumped for a moment, but chalked it up to whatever inhuman powers that the witch possessed. In reality, she shouldn't have been surprised, not after seeing her transform from dragon to woman the day before. So, she boarded the ship and took a spot on the warped floor next to her daughters.


	3. Chapter 3

I appreciate constructive criticisms and comments.

Dragon Age Origins and II belong to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

For two weeks, the tempestuous sea crashed against the ship they were traveling on. The ship groaned against the waves and threatened to capsize under the pressure of the sizable surf. Every passenger aboard the ship had to be wondering if it really was a good idea to travel across the rough seas rather than trying their luck against the Darkspawn. At least that wouldn't result in having a false sense of security that would only result in death.

On top of the stormy waters, food was scarce. Every day, they were given a crust of bread, a small bit of cured meat, and some fresh water. Provisions had to be running thin, considering that four of the travelers and the dog were not actually supposed to be on board. But, everyone managed. They rationalized that they would eat like queens once they arrived at the Amell estate. Leandra assured that Gamlen, her younger brother, would receive them well and make sure that they were all well-fed and had a warm, dry place to sleep. Claudia and Aveline both believed this to be wishful thinking on the older woman's part, but they did not outwardly voice this as to not break Bethany's innocent spirit.

During most of the journey, Claudia immersed herself in her father's grimoire. She didn't understand most of it, seeing as he didn't bother to teach her about magic since she couldn't wield it in the first place. But, to see his handwriting before her and to hear his voice as he would have spoken the words scrawled on the page brought her a sense of comfort. Her fingers traced one of the intricate letters gently as she turned the page, finding a passage that looked unlike any of the spells she had seen previously.

_My escape was as grand as I had been dreaming all of these months. The fire spread quickly through the lower chambers of the Tower, which sent every Templar in a frenzy to put it out and to keep the apprentices in check. In their haste, they had forgotten about me. I blew up a small section of the wall with the spell documented below and escaped. I had to loop all the way around the lake and decided to seek refuge in Orzammar until I can find someone to help me seek out my phylactery and have it destroyed._

The passage ended with that and continued on to describe a spell that could destroy fortified stone walls.

When Malcolm was alive, he used to make up elaborate stories about how he was not in the Circle. Many of which involved vast impossibilities, ranging from dragons, to him secretly being a King of a far-off land. The children knew that he was lying, but they liked to think that it was some fantastic explanation rather than something otherwise mundane. But, this passage intrigued Claudia. She glossed over it once again, just to make sure that her mind wasn't traveling to places that didn't exist. But, the handwriting was her father's and it said exactly what she had recalled. It made her wonder if there were other passages like this, others that spelled out his life before his children and his wife. If so, she was going to discover them.

Claudia snapped the book shut and tucked it back into her breastplate. The sound of the shuffling seemed to rouse Aveline from her slumber. She laid with her head against the planked floor momentarily, her eyes scanning her surroundings before she sat up. The woman rubbed her temples before stretching her arms out above her head. Since their only method of being able to tell time was based on the position of the sun, she didn't bother to ask about the time. She doubted if she would get a straight answer out of the only women who was still awake anyway. "What were you doing, Hawke?" She asked groggily.

"I took a stroll around the forest, and then I stopped at the tavern for a pint before I came back here." Joked the woman without skipping a beat. But, Aveline was the sort of woman who would want a real response, not sarcastic quips and witty remarks. She grabbed the length of her hair and pulled it over to one shoulder in order to keep it from falling into her face constantly due to the rocking of the ship. "I was looking at my father's grimoire. I never really got a good peek at it because he kept it hidden for obvious reasons."

"You have something to say about everything, don't you, Hawke?" Inquired Aveline about the former of the remarks. They hadn't really talked about the Hawke family much in the two weeks that they had been acquainted. She was curious: how did a family of apostates stay hidden for as long as they did? This wasn't a situation like the witch Flemeth where they hid in the Kocari Wilds. She looked around to see if anyone was in earshot, but noticing that everyone was either passed out or above deck, she felt safe to talk. "Tell me, how did your family remain hidden for so long? With two apostates, it must have been difficult for you to stay out of the Templar's sight."

A smirk crossed Claudia's face at the question. The survival tactics the Hawkes employed were rather unorthodox, but it had been successful for twenty-three years. "You won't believe me if I told you." She laughed slightly, shaking her head slightly as she thought back to it. "We used to construct these characters when we'd travel from place to place—we took them very seriously, to the point of donning outfits and accents to make it believable. Father was a rather convincing liar, and used every asset he had to his advantage, including my pleasing face and…erm…ample bosom. The young Templars would become flushed when I would flirt in the ways I was instructed to. Mother was never happy about Father tarting me up and displaying me like he did, but it did permit us safe passage. "

Nodding, Aveline understood the explanation. It was understandable that apostates employed various tactics to keep themselves safe. She was curious, though. What kinds of stories did they concoct to help them through Ferelden? Maybe curiosity killed the cat, but she was no kitty. "What kind of stories did you used to tell? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"Father's favorite was one where we pretended that I was the daughter of an Orlesian noble's daughter and my family was my handmaidens and manservants. I was sent to Ferelden to meet my betrothed—we often said that I was marrying Arl Howe's oldest son. Since we were Orlesians according to the story, we naturally got lost. If we happened to stumble upon Templars, my father would tell them some sob story about how we were ambushed by bandits and we were lucky to escape with our lives. Sometimes they would slip us some provisions unbeknown to their Knight-Commander and point us in the right direction."

Although Aveline knew to expect such a story, she was slightly appalled. Harboring apostates was a crime in itself, but the fact that they used Templars so blatantly was what made her disgusted. That could have easily been Wesley that was seduced by the Hawke family into doing their bidding. "Lying about being a noble is a crime punishable by three years in the dungeons." Curtly remarked the woman with a soured expression.

Both women went silent for a time, mostly to prevent an argument from occurring amongst themselves. Even so, the ship soon docked with a whine as the sides rubbed against the dock. The captain's voice bellowed out that they had reached the shore, which caused Leandra and Bethany to rise from their slumber. Like everyone else, the women gathered what precious few things they had with them, and the Mabari, and headed above deck. The sunlight hit their weary eyes first, causing each to squint and block her eyes. And yet, it was the sight of the giant chains that held the nude statues of the Gallows captive that seemed to hold their attention. They didn't call Kirkwall 'the city of chains' for no reason.

"At least we've finally made it." Leandra's voice was weary with travel and exhaustion. Her eyes were still growing accustomed to the natural light and not the dim candles of the haul. Though, the fresh sea air filling her lungs was refreshing, cleaning, almost. She could start a new life with her daughters and hope for far less trepidation in the years to come.

Already, Aveline was inspecting the city, trying to discern what kind of place she had ran off to was. She could see a massive crowd of people ahead. Voices were raised, and some were drawing weapons. Apparently, this was not a good time to be relocating to the city.

"One at a time!" Howled the guard at the gates, his steely gaze not missing anything that was happening under his jurisdiction. "There's not enough space in Kirkwall to go around! We'll charter enough boats to get all of you back to Ferelden, but until then, you must wait!"

The man's claims did not seem to calm the crowd any. In fact, some were fighting amongst themselves, to the point of drawing blood and causing two other guards to charge up to separate the scuffle. Those who were fighting were dragged off to a building that one of the guards referred to as 'The Gallows'.

With some space cleared, Claudia shoved her way through the sea of bodies and to the guard. Even though she had heard what the man had said, she wagered that she was a very convincing person, and with enough flirtation, she could get her way and find them a safe place in the city to rest their heads.

"Can I help you?" Inquired the guard in a surly tone, not bothering to even give the four women and their dog a proper once-over.

"Maybe. I could use some help lacing up my boots on dark mornings, or-"

"-Claudia! This is not the time for joking." Leandra was growing tired of her daughter's continuous sarcasm and wanted nothing more than a little peace. After a tumultuous venture across the sea and losing her son, she needed serenity. Her scornful eyes skipped from her daughter to the guard, furrowed brows relaxing against her face after her initial upset had calmed. "I apologize for my daughter. My brother, Gamlen Amell, he owns an estate here in Kirkwall and we were hoping to be granted entry into the city to go live with him."

A quizzical glance was cast at the woman at the mention of 'Gamlen Amell' and 'Estate'. It wasn't his place to tell other people that they were stupid or wrong, just to shoo them away from the closed gates. But, people with family in the city were granted access if they could pay their way through; that was the policy, after all. "The only Gamlen I know couldn't rub two coppers together, and I haven't seen him in some time. But, if I see him, I'll tell him that you're waiting for him here." The guard didn't bother to ask for a name; he could just describe the women and hope that this would suffice.

Three long days passed of waiting for Gamlen. Every day, they would wander the streets, hoping to find enough coin that had fallen from its owner's purses and into the streets in order to feed them. And every night, they would sleep on the cold, hard steps of the Gallows because there was nowhere left available. Most of the Kirkwall natives treated them like rubbish as they would pass on their business. And, Bethany was more nervous than ever due to their proximity to the Kirkwall Circle. Still, there was nothing they could do, unless they wanted to get onto the next boat back to Ferelden and take their chances with the Blight.

At sunrise on the fourth day, Aveline and Claudia had returned from buying bread from a merchant with steeply overpriced wares. The dog bounded after them playfully. He had been hunting for himself, eating the oversized rats that flooded into Kirkwall off of the ships from Rivain. They divvied up the day's meal equally between themselves and sat down on the steps to eat in silence. Hunger had been gnawing at them all, so talk was spared for the sake of enjoying the feeling of a full belly.

As they silently chewed on their food, a man dressed in filthy wool garments approached. His hair was a salt-and-pepper sort of color and bore a resemblance to Leandra. When his eyes befell her, his rather stern-looking face softened slightly and he approached at an accelerated pace. "Leandra!" He boomed, embracing the woman, who had since risen to her feet to greet him properly. "Damn, girl! Time has not been kind to you!" After pulling away, he examined her face before turning his attention to the other three. "I thought that you had a boy and two girls, or, did I just misread your letters?"

Leandra beamed at the sight. Gamlen looked so different than she remembered, but it had been twenty-four years since she had seen her brother. The last she remembered of him, he was rather enraged that she was running away from Kirkwall, five months pregnant with Claudia and secretly married to Malcolm. Seeing her baby brother now was a relief for her.

"I did have a boy and two girls, but Carver's—" She couldn't even finish her own statement; the wound was still much too fresh.

Gamlen should have known that these were the only ones who escaped the Blight, judging by the fact that they were the only ones there. He had known about Malcolm prior, but he never responded to the letter that detailed his death. "I…I'm sorry, for your boy and that husband of yours." And, he genuinely was, even if he always disliked that Hawke fellow. And, even if he was generally crude and spoke his mind, even at the expense of others, it wasn't the time to be telling her how he really felt about her husband or how the Circle was probably a better place for that apostate daughter of hers.

But, now was not the time to be sentimental and relish in his sister's company. They had precious little time to act to get the four of these women and their mutt into the city before their window of opportunity closed and they were forced back to Ferelden. "I tried to convince those in charge of allowing the refugees into the city to allow you in, but they weren't so keen without a little _persuasion._ But, seeing as I have no money, and neither do you-"

"-Mother said you had an estate, that the Amells are nobles here in Kirkwall." Blurted out Bethany. She could tell that the others were thinking it, but hadn't said anything. Normally, she would have expected her sister to speak up, but she had been scolded quite a bit in the last couple of weeks and was more than likely attempting to watch her tongue just a little bit.

"About that: the estate's gone. I had to sell it to take care of some things."

Leandra's face twisted I shock. When she left, her family was one of the wealthiest in Kirkwall. How Gamlen lost everything confused her. But, they needed to get into the city before she could even chide him about his choices. "If you have no money to buy our way in, what is your plan on getting us in, then?"

"There's a mercenary group that runs out of Kirkwall, the Red Irons. I told their leader than your pups can handle their own and he offered to pay for all of you to get into the city if your children go to work for him for a year."

The way Gamlen spoke of it, he made it sound as if it was no big deal. But, he was clearly trying to mask the fact that he was essentially selling his nieces into slavery. No one was sitting right with the idea, but they all knew that it was their only chance at getting into Kirkwall.

Leandra looked rather upset at Gamlen about the implications that his offer made. He was trying to sell her children into slavery. "Aren't there any other jobs you could have found them? Couldn't they be curriers for the Viscount, or-"

"-It was either this or suggest that they go to the Blooming Rose and apply to be one of the _working girls_ there." Interrupted Gamlen rudely. Though, looking at his nieces, they would probably make a better haul at the Rose than working as mercenaries. Men were always willing to pay good for the pretty ones. Some of the girls who worked there were doing better than most others in the city, but he knew that neither Leandra nor her children would enthusiastically accept that particular opportunity.

"I would rather not spread my legs for coin; the mercenaries it is. What's a year?" Claudia added rhetorically, opening Gamlen up to continue on with the plan. She wasn't fond of the idea at all, but she knew that she would prosper as a mercenary. And, if it gave them passage into Kirkwall, it was really their only option. They were in far too deep to turn around now and head back to Ferelden.

With the confirmation, Gamlen cleared his throat. He knew that he would hear all about him even knowing the leader of a mercenary group from Leandra later, but it would really have to wait. At the moment, he was far too concerned with just having the meeting he planned going on without a hitch. "Then you three girls should go and talk to Meeren. He's just down the steps; you'll know him when you see him." The man motioned to a secluded area in the shadows about two hundred yards from their current location to give them a better idea as to where to look for this Meeren character.

Although this Meeren fellow was attempting to remain inconspicuous, he was rather easy for Claudia, Bethany, and Aveline to find. He was a rather unassuming man, though his beady eyes darted around like a weasel's. When they befell the women, a sly grin took his face. "You must be the girls Gamlen was talking about." His voice matched his appearance well. He studied each in turn, clearly knowing more about each of them than they cared to have him know. But, so was the way of a mercenary. They knew everything about everyone in the off chance than one of them became a target somewhere down the line.

"It appears we are, or just random strangers who take pleasure in speaking to people we don't know." Joked Claudia, though no one laughed. People rarely did, anyway. "My name is Hawke, and this is my sister-"

"-I know all about you girls. Kirkwall's crawling with spies, so word travels fast. Now, about getting you into the city: I'll need you to do something for me first, to prove your skill and loyalty to the Irons." Meeren paused, a hand running along the top of his balding head as a sort of nervous habit that he did regularly. "I need you to _dispose _of a noble named Friedrich. He gave us some bad information; almost cost me some of my men. Last I heard, he was looking to get on a ship out of Kirkwall."

"Why don't you just send your own men?" Barked Aveline. She was not keen on the idea of killing some man for the sake of getting into the city. Similarly, she was not sitting right with the Hawkes becoming indentured mercenaries on her behalf either. Later, she would have to find her own work and help to pay off their debt for what they were doing for her. She owed them at least that much.

Meeren laughed slightly at Aveline. She clearly was not familiar with how mercenaries worked. "Because he knows all of my men. I need to send someone who he doesn't know. So, will you do it?" The last question was mainly for Claudia, seeing as she seemed to be doing most of the talking for them anyway.

"I suppose I don't get much of a choice, do I? It's either help you, or go back to Ferelden."

"You're right about that. You can find Friedrich in front of the Gallows; my sources say he was hiding out there last they saw him."

Claudia didn't even bother to humor Meeren with a response. She was tired, relatively upset about not being able to get into the city easily, and had a nasty crick in her neck from sleeping on the stone ground. She just wanted to get this over with so that she could finally have a bed to sleep in and a decent amount of food in her belly. This Friedrich character was seriously right around the corner from Meeren. At least, she had to assume that he was the one that the mercenary had been talking about. His clothes were made of fine silks, and he had an entourage of muscle-bound thugs standing around him as they approached.

"Who are you? Get out of here!" He yelled as the women got closer. He took a step back, but finding that his shoulder blades were pressed into a wall meant that he couldn't go anywhere else.

"You don't recognize the prophet Andraste when you see her?" Sarcastically answered Claudia in response to the question about who she was.

Friedrich's eyes narrowed when she muttered those words. "Kieran saw you talking to Meeren just a moment ago. You're here to kill me, aren't you?"

Shaking her head and laughing to herself was the only answer she had in response to his question. Somehow, she should have known that this was going to blow up in her face. Things like this always did, and she should have had better judgment than to trust a mercenary who promised to get her into the city. But, she was desperate, so desperate that she would even kill this man just to give her mother and sister a safe place to call home. If this Friedrich person really was a noble, though, perhaps he could afford to pay the bribes Gamlen was trying to make to get them into the city. "If you can get us into the city, I'll let you go."

"I don't have that kind of money!" His words were some sort of battle cry for his guards. They advanced upon the three women quickly, surrounding them in the shady alley in front of the Gallows.

The first went for Aveline, but they underestimated her prowess in battle. Wesley's sword stuck as the leather-clad foe precisely, cutting him down to size with a couple of strikes. She used the shield that bore the Templar's insignia to block an attack from another one of the thugs Friedrich employed, and when the man was still readying for another attack, she bashed him with the object roughly, causing him to stumble back and into Bethany.

Seeing as they were right in front of the Circle, Bethany was careful not to use any of her magic. However, she was lucky enough that her staff was bladed and she had been practicing with it at Carver's demand. When the thug that Aveline had hit with her shield was within her attack range, she brought the blunt side down upon his head to cause him to go into a sort of daze. She spun the staff around so that the blade would be easier for her to wield and used it to pierce the man and lacerate his skin until he was felled like the one before him.

While the other two worried themselves with the thugs, Claudia was preoccupied with making sure that Friedrich didn't get away. He was making a mad dash for the docks, hoping that these women were slower than they appeared and would not catch him before he sought refuge on a ship. He was several yards away; Claudia knew that it would be hard to catch up by running alone. So, she channeled some sort of wild beast and leapt at the man on all fours, her daggers pointed straight at where she anticipated landing, which was on top of Friedrich himself. Her blades sank into his back effectively and impaled him all the way through. He gurgled in utter agony once before going limp. Each blade was pulled out in turn and wiped on his fine Orlesian silk garments, which she had lifted five sovereigns and a small hunting knife with ornate carvings on the handle out of.

Aveline and Bethany soon joined her, blood splattered across their clothing as well. None were proud of what they did as they made their way back to Meeren, but it was done and they could not take it back. At least they had a bit of money so they could eat more than bread for a while. They were all dealing with the fact that this was to be one of many times that they would be shedding the blood of others, and that they were now technically slaves to the Red Irons.

With their blood-drenched clothing, Meeren could tell that the women had accomplished the task he had sent them for. "I take it that Friedrich is dead?" He asked, though mainly as insurance. He didn't know them, so he didn't know if they were just trying to pull the wool over his eyes and make him believe that they had completed the job.

"Dead and buried. Well, dead at least." Chorused Claudia, feigning pride through sarcasm.

A slight laugh escaped Meeren at the remark, though it faded just as quickly as it had come. He nodded and reached into his trouser pockets for something. "I should go bribe all of the appropriate people then. If all goes well, I should be able to get you girls and your mother in the city before nightfall." From his pocket, the man produced a folded piece of parchment and handed it to Claudia.

"What is this?" She questioned, unfolding it curiously to uncover its contents.

"Your first assignment. I need it done by the week's end." Not bothering to wait for any sort of response, Meeren headed back into the city to hold up his end of the bargain.

Claudia's fingers worked nimbly at unfolding the strange document. She had a hard time believing that she was just inducted, and she had already received her first job. Her eyes scanned the paper, trying to commit its contents to memory. It went without saying that she would more than likely have to destroy the parchment.

_Target: Nathaniel Howe_

_Known Locations: Hightown taverns, Sundermount_

_Description: Dark hair, dark eyes, fair skin. Uses a bow._

_Bring back one of his possessions to prove completion of the job._


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Before anyone gets upset about how I have Nathaniel handle his bow, in my experiences with Awakening, he's always charging at the enemies and trying to shoot them from close-range. I wanted to incorporate my amusement towards this. I apologize in advance if anyone is upset by it.

Dragon Age Origins and II belong to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

Three days had passed since the fateful meeting with Meeren. Aveline was lucky enough to get hired as a guard-in-training and went to live in the Barracks with the other guards. Working as a mercenary provided no such perks, however, so the Hawke women were forced to live with Gamlen in his house next-door to the tavern in Lowtown. It was difficult for them to even refer to the building as a house, considering the usual squalor that Gamlen kept it in. All three women were forced to share the smallest room off the main living area and had little more than blankets to sleep on. Their host was hardly ever home, but when he would show up, he would stink of cheap ale, or the cheaper women who worked at the brothel in Hightown. But, it was warm, dry, and there was food to eat, so complaining did nothing.

Claudia's first job was still looming overhead, and she was slightly nervous. She had asked Meeren about the hit when he was supplying her with better daggers than the ones she kept, and he explained that Arl Howe, her target's father, had executed some Orlesian nobleman's son, so as revenge, he had hired the Iron to kill Howe's eldest, who had been sent to the Free Marches some months ago. Meeren also explained that this was a sort of probation, and if she failed, her and her family would be blacklisted by the Red Iron.

As she had four days left to complete her job, Claudia had decided that it was high time to get on it. Bethany had reluctantly agreed to go with as they stalked the Hightown taverns for any news about this Nathaniel character.

Stepping into Hightown was like stepping into a different city. Everyone was in such grand clothing and turned their noses up at the sisters as they walked. Ivy climbed the sides of the regal estates, seeking a ray of light to warm its leaves with every inch it ascended. And, of course, it was clean. Garbage and sewage did not litter the streets, and the guardsmen seemed much more apt to keeping shady figures away from the public. Claudia wondered if they would see Aveline on their way to the tavern, but she was probably going through basic training still and would not be patrolling the streets of Hightown just yet.

The tavern they stepped into was nothing like the one that Gamlen lived next to. All of the patrons sat on posh, velvet-backed chairs and sipped fine Antivan brandy from crystal. All of their conversations were hushed, subdued, so much that the chamber music that the violinist and the lutist were playing was more pronounced that the voices.

Since the two women obviously did not fit in, the bartender cast them an odd look as they walked up. They clearly could not afford what he was selling.

"We're looking for a man by the name of Nathaniel Howe." Bethany remarked politely, knowing that her sister would probably get them nowhere with her sarcasm and wit. It wasn't that it always failed; it was just that the people here did not look as though they were messing around. They needed to be clear and concise with their words, and not add humorous fluff.

Rapping his chin with his index finger, the bartender rapped his chin with his pudgy index finger. "Nathaniel Howe…I think I know who you're talking about. He's been staying in the room upstairs, but he went off early this morning; said something about going to practice his hunting at Sundermount. If you're looking for him, you'll probably find him there." He didn't bother to ask what their business was with his tenant; pretty girls were always coming in and asking for him, hence why he remembered the name.

To get to Sundermount, the two women had to walk for an hour due-east of the city limits. The landscape slowly turned from a prairie with a paved road through it to a rocky dirt road dotted with trees. Travelers seemed to not come this way often, judging by the lack of tracks in the road and they hadn't seen a single passerby for the better part of thirty minutes.

As they walked the hilly pass, Bethany remembered the witch and her amulet. She had instructed Claudia to take it to the Keeper of the clan of Dalish elves who were supposed to be living in the area. If her sister remembered the jewel, they could stop by and fulfill their end of the bargain they had made with Flemeth. "Did you remember Flemeth's amulet? We could see if the Dalish are here on our way back."

"How could I forget such an ominous trinket? It just screams 'bring me with you'. I asked Meeren about the Dalish just yesterday, though. He said that there was a clan living here about a year ago, but the left. Some people in Kirkwall seem to believe that one of Ferelden's clans will be relocating to Kirkwall, due to the Blight, but they haven't arrived yet. We'll just have to wait for them to get here."

Once in the mountainous region, the sisters traversed cautiously. Claudia, being a rogue and the primary hunter for their family, was used to taking calculated, careful steps. Bethany, on the other hand, was not so adept. But, she did follow well and managed to make very little noise as they searched for their target. They didn't say it aloud, but both knew that the other was not so proud of this shining moment of Hawke history, in which they were reduced to killing an innocent man because of the choices that his father made. Still, it was his head or theirs, so the both of them figured that they'd much rather have one innocent die than both of them and their mother.

As they continued, they could hear some over-zealous remarks in the distance. They approached carefully, hiding in the brush outside a clearing. Bethany was a bit too nervous to peer over the plant life, but Claudia persevered, craning her neck to see what all of the commotion was about. If they were lucky, it would be their target. But, as the Maker had made it abundantly clear, neither of the Hawke sisters was, or would be, very lucky.

A man was there, his bow trained expertly on one of the trees that surrounded him. It seemed that he had carved a makeshift target into the wood with a knife, which is what he was aiming for. He would take a shot from no further than a few steps away and make it, naturally. Every so often, his dark hair would fall into his eyes and he would brush it back with his fingers. Occasionally, he would curse the length and tell himself that he really needed a haircut.

Claudia couldn't go on watching the charade. This man was more than likely her target, which was reason enough to announce her presence. She was more agitated by the fact that he seemed to neglect the fact that he was using a ranged weapon, and yet he still seemed far too adamant about being relatively close to his target. In her frustration, she gave her sister a sign to lay low and climbed out from behind the bush they were hiding behind. "You would do much better to stand back here and shoot." Stated the woman nonchalantly. While she didn't know much about archery, she did know that an archer was better off staying away from the battle as best as possible.

At her voice, the man's head whipped around to see who was talking. He was not expecting any visitors, let alone a woman who looked rather dangerous, judging by the pair of daggers strapped to her back. Her comment caused his blood to boil ever so slightly; what did she know of what he was doing? "I was _trying_ to shoot at close range." He coolly rebutted in a matter-of-factly tone of voice. Still, he was ever cautious. He clutched an arrow in hand as if his life depended on it, in the off chance that this woman lunged at him in hostility.

"Ah, so that would explain the foolish lack of judgment and proper battle placement. At least I know it was intentional." Already, Claudia could hear in her head the scoff that Bethany was doing internally at the bit of sarcasm. Her family hated her smart mouth and weren't shy about telling her. It was the only way she knew how to talk to people though; it would require too much time and effort to be polite, so she just didn't bother trying.

"Who are you?" The man's eyes narrowed as he looked on her. He was attempting to read her intentions, which proved impossible. That was what he hated and loved about women; he could never tell what was on their minds.

Braving a couple of steps, Claudia fussed with a lock of her hair as if to pretend to be bored with the conversation. Really, she was just trying to give herself time to muster up enough courage to get her first job over with. All she was doing was delaying the inevitable, and she knew this. "Who? Me? I'm no one of any interest. You, Nathaniel Howe, you are someone quite interesting, however." She had to admit, it was a little surreal to be standing so close to the man that her and her father used to claim she was betrothed to. He seemed like a story when she was younger, but here he was, living and breathing human flesh before her.

Nathaniel wasn't stupid, and caught on real quick that this woman was not here by accident. She knew his name, which meant that she knew he was of noble blood. His mind raced at all of the things that people did to the children of nobles, causing him to curse his lineage outwardly. Everyone in Kirkwall was looking to make a coin off of someone else's misfortune, and now it was his turn to be that unlucky sod. "Get away from me!" He warned, raising his bow and readying to fire at her if she took another step closer. "I am no idiot; you are here to kidnap me, or kill me or something else horrible because of who my father is! I won't stand for it."

This whole time, the idea of killing an innocent was causing turmoil inside of Claudia's mind. Her conscious was constantly battling herself since Meeren had told her the reason for the hit in the first place. She hated that politics was so wrapped up in assassins and mercenaries. Why couldn't they just kill each other, like civilized people? Quickly, she concocted a plan in her head, a plan that would probably fail, but it the Maker smiled upon her, she would be brilliant. "You're right, I _am_ here to kill you, but I don't want to. I don't normally condone killing innocents, especially for petty Orlesian and Ferelden politics, so let's work out a deal instead."

Failing to shoot the bow, Nathaniel was listening. He didn't understand why he was so willing to hear her out, but maybe it was because she was fairly easy on the eyes. Maybe it was sexist, but he was usually more willing to listen to what attractive women had to say above men. "I'm listening, but make it quick."

Claudia figuratively wiped off the sweat on her brow as her target agreed to at least humor her. As a sign of good will, she took a step back. Her daggers were still sheathed and on her back, but she wasn't about to take them off when she wasn't familiar with the man's disposition. "My boss isn't going to look for a body; it's far too much effort on his part to either go hunting them down or to have someone look. He instructed me to bring back a possession of yours, something that I could have only lifted off of your cold, dead body that would prove that I did my job. Or, you could _willingly_ forfeit such a trinket. You'll have to leave Kirkwall immediately for this to work, but you'll be spared, and I'll have a prize to take back to my boss, who is none the wiser." To her, the plan sounded fool-proof. She already knew Meeren to be far too lazy to look into the deaths. And really, he had no reason to care about bad blood between two nobles from two countries that did not affect him.

Every time Nathaniel tried to poke a hole in the logic, the woman seemed to have an explanation as to why her plan was right. It wasn't that he was looking to die that particular day, but he didn't want to think that he got off scott-free, only to have mercenaries coming after him somewhere down the line. But, he did lower his bow, realizing now that she was looking for any way out of doing her job. "Who's to say that your boss won't look for my body?" His dark eyes narrowed at the words.

"I am." Said Claudia boldly. She examined her nails, as if to say that this was a fairly simple matter and the man was over-thinking it. And, he was. She had seen the lusty glances Meeren had cast her on occasion, so he would probably believe whatever story she concocted, permitting she did her homework and backed it up with some form of fabricated truth. "I'll tell him that your body became compromised somehow. Perhaps a fire started and your body became charred beyond recognition, or a group of those Giant Spiders claimed your corpse before it even went cold."

As she spoke, Claudia was studying the man for any sort of item that would prove he was who she was looking for. He was dressed rather plainly for a noble, but he had that look about him; he looked like he was used to living a charmed life and this was his first real experience away from the Arling his father rules. That, and her rogue's eyes spotted a glittering amulet hanging loosely around his neck. It looked valuable, and while she was standing at a distance, it looked as though it was branded. She advanced on him quickly, snatching the piece of jewelry up into her palm and examining it as he was still wearing it. "What is this symbol?" She asked, tracing the intricate design with her index finger as if she was going to absorb information about it through touch.

Nathaniel lurched back as she stepped close, but found himself frozen as she stood before him, less than a foot of space between them. At first, he had thought that she was going to attack, but she simply was fascinated by his amulet. Up close, he had to admit that she was quite pretty, as far as women who were sent to kill him were concerned. But, he learned from his time studying to be an effective rogue that women often used their attractive faces to lure in their targets. Her body language, still, was non-threatening, so he wagered that telling her about his necklace was alright. "The insignia is my family crest. My mother had commissioned the best jeweler in all of Ferelden to make this for me when I turned thirteen."

Just as Claudia had hoped, the amulet could be once proven to belong to the Howe family. She smiled to herself, tugging on the chain forcefully and pulling it off of the man's neck. "This will be enough for me." The woman tucked the amulet into her armor for safe-keeping. It rested safely next to Flemeth's, pressing its unique shape into her skin. "You should get out of Kirkwall tonight. I will report back to my boss in the morning. I hear Starkhaven is lovely this time of year."

Relenting, the Nathaniel knew deep down that this was probably the best option. He wasn't really looking to get into a fight, and if he disagreed, that would be all that he would get. No doubt, he could more than likely match her, or even best her, but shedding blood unnecessarily was silly. Similarly, he had been planning on leaving Kirkwall to go to one of the other city-states of the Free Marches. There was no point in traveling abroad if he only stayed in one place. The only reason he saw to fight her was to reclaim his amulet, but it wasn't really worth a person's life. "Okay." Agreed Nathaniel stoically. Later, he would have to investigate the hit and see why Orlesian nobles would want him dead, but at the moment, he felt grateful that his assassin had grown a conscience prior to killing him. Perhaps father knew something about this.

With the amulet in tow, Claudia returned to Bethany, who had been silently watching the whole scene from the bushes. She was surprised, though in a good way. It was nice to see that her older sister hadn't entirely lost her sense of morals when she agreed to join the Iron. "I'm proud of you, and mother would be as well." She mentioned on their descent, a light smile gracing her cheeks as she spoke. "You could have snuck up on that man and killed him, but you didn't. I just hope you're right about Meeren." Even though she was happy about the choice her sister made, she couldn't help her nerves. If Meeren found out, he would surely have her throat slit. Then would where they be?

"Don't worry about Meeren." Confidently affirmed Claudia, a dauntless grin crossing her face as they headed into the city limits. "I think he fancies me, and while I normally wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole, I think I can make him _believe_ that I would do certain things with him and have him completely overlook the holes in our story." The idea of flirting with her boss made her physically ill, but she did many uncomfortable things in order to protect her family. So, she would suck it up and do something she would rather not for her younger sister.

The pair got back to Lowtown well after sundown. The usually bustling bazaar was replaced by drunken men stumbling either to or from The Hanged Man. Every time the door to the establishment opened, the sound of its happy patrons permeated the dark streets, as if to lull every passerby into submission. It seemed to work on most, seeing as the door rarely stayed closed for long. Normally, stopping by for a drink wouldn't have seemed odd to the sisters, but they were far too tired from their walk and were both apprehensive about how their boss would react to the the tale they were forming in their heads. Instead of drinking, they headed back into the dank hovel and fell straight asleep as soon as their heads met the straw-stuffed pillows.

Before sunrise, Claudia rose quietly. She dressed silently, occasionally glancing over her shoulder cautiously as to make sure that she hadn't woken her mother or sister. Tiptoeing out of the room, she made special care to avoid the Mabari sleeping near the front door. Holding her breath, the woman stepped over the slumbering canine, afraid that he would hear her attempts to leave and begin to bark loudly, waking everyone. But, he only rolled over and wuffed lightly in his sleep as she headed out the door.

Since it was safe to breathe, the woman released her breath and ran down the street to the corner Meeren usually occupied before sun-up. He seemed to like the spot in the alley next to the tavern, so she made a bee-like for it. Like clockwork, he was there, as if he had anticipated her visit. For a second time, she sucked in a rough breath and held it.

"Hawke, it's always nice to see your face so early in the morn." He said, a note of flirtation in his voice as he spoke. There weren't many women who were in the Iron, and fewer still who were quite as comely. Many of which were scarred, or disfigured in some way. Meeren counted himself lucky that the Hawke girls were so desperate that they would come to work for him. Still, he expected that her presence was more about her job and less about him finding her to be attractive. "Is this about your job?"

Claudia forced a smile at the remark, knowing very well that she needed to be convincing. "Do I need a reason to come see you first thing?" There was a subtle hint of seduction in her tone. She cast him a charming glance, hoping that this was all it took to convince the man that what she said was the truth. If it took any more than brief flirtation and coy looks, she would rather take her chances with the other members of the Iron. "I finished the job." The amulet she had taken from the man the day before was pulled from her armor and shown to Meeren.

With the eyes of an expert, Meeren examined the item in question shrewdly. Just as she had the day prior, he ran his fingers along the tempered silver, feeling the warmth that Claudia's body had granted it permeate his fingers. "This looks pretty authentic. What happened to him?"

All this time, Claudia knew that Meeren would ask about what had happened to the target. She had been deluding herself into believing that he wouldn't. Thinking quickly, the woman rubbed the back of her neck as a story was fabricated on the fly. "He was training up on Sundermount when Bethany and I ambushed him. We got into a tiff; his amulet got ripped off during the scuffle. Bethany started shooting fireballs at him, and one caught his clothing. He went up in a blaze quickly; so quickly that his remains were utterly charred and unrecognizable. The amulet was the only thing that was left of him. But, I figured that the strange marking on it was his family crest, so I took it as proof of completion."

"I see." Murmured Meeren, closing Claudia's fingers around the pendant gingerly. "That sister of yours proved to be quite useful." His words seemed wary, though ever so slightly. He seemed the sort of man who was always suspicious of everyone, even if they were someone who proved to him that they could be trusted above all else. But, there was something about Hawke that seemed as though he could put the utmost of faith in her. It wasn't just her pretty face or skill in battle. She had that sort of look about her that made people believe that she could be trusted. Meeren was not free of this charm and chose to accept the tale she had told him.

"Don't you want the amulet?" Asked Claudia. If Meeren was so adamant about her bringing a trinket back, why was he not taking it from her? She would hate to go through all of that trouble of convincing that Howe man to agree to her plan, only to have Meeren sell the thing or to just throw it away. It seemed to be a valuable possession to her target, one that he probably was upset about having to part with. No doubt, its sentimental value vastly outweighed its monetary value.

The man shook his head as a response. Those eyes he had, which saw everything and knew all, they darted around in the off chance that the guards decided to show up outside of their route. He was an ever-cautious man, worried that he would be thrown in prison for his shady dealings. "Keep it as a memory of your first job. I probably would have just sold it anyway." Without another word, the man pushed past Claudia and headed into the streets of Lowtown in order to get some sleep. He did most of his business at night, so he was fairly exhausted after a long day of meeting with those he employed or the spies that were commonplace throughout Kirkwall.

Relief was hardly the word to describe how Claudia felt. She released a breath that she didn't even know she was holding and headed back home to tell Bethany the news.


	5. Chapter 5

Dragon Age Origins and II belong to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

A year had passed since that eventful day on Sundermount. The Hawkes were still living with Gamlen, but Bethany and Claudia were free of their ties to the Red Iron. Their time as mercenaries didn't go without its perks, however. In certain circuits, the name _Hawke_ carried a weight about it, singing untold stories of a fearsome scoundrel with a tongue sharper than steel and a face that betrayed her less than honorable reputation. Anyone who needed something killed knew to ask for 'The Hawke' when commissioning from Meeren. Very few knew her for what she really was, or how she was only working for the Iron in order to pay the debt that she had incurred just to get into the city.

Aveline had a rather eventful year just as the Hawke women had. She rose to the occasion and became a guard faster than anyone in the last five years. She was trusted by her fellow guard and civilians alike. Her watchful eyes were her best asset as she patrolled the dangerous streets every night. Every so often, she made it her job to stop in on the Hawkes to check up on them. Keeping good on her promise, she would give them a portion of her salary for all that they did for her; they deserved at least that. And, if her investigations ever pointed into the direction of her feisty mercenary friend, she would do her best to find a lead that may throw suspicion somewhere else. Granted, killings in Kirkwall were so tied up in mercenaries that it was easy to claim that the hired goons were little more than a sword acting on behalf of its master.

In that year, the Blight was ended by a Gray Warden of noble blood by the name of Sophie Cousland. Word had traveled across the Waking Sea about this, and about a rumor that her and a small group of Warden recruits also killed _talking_ Darkspawn. The latter, of course, were rumors that many did not believe, seeing as Darkspawn couldn't talk. Similarly, people were saying that Alistair, a Gray Warden who had also aided in ending the Blight, was now sitting on the throne because he was Maric's bastard. He married his fellow Warden shortly after the end of the Blight, and their happy union was that talk of all the Ferelden refugees throughout the Free Marches.

None of this changed the fact that Claudia was still living in the squalor that was Gamlen's house. With her current status, she couldn't protect her sister, let alone buy them their own home, which only upset her. In her frustration, she would often go to the tavern and have a pint in order to calm her. Claudia had a terribly low tolerance for any sort of alcohol, and barely finished half, but she found enjoyment in all of the interesting conversations that she could overhear within the Hanged Man. Leandra had taught her that eavesdropping was bad, but she really didn't care if she seemed rude of uncouth. People only saw her as a blade for hire anyway, even after she was free of the shackles that linked her to the Iron.

One night, however, she overheard something interesting. A couple of drunk thugs were talking about some thrifty dwarf named Bartrand Tethras, who was apparently going on some sort of expedition to the Deep Roads in the Free Marches. The idea alone put off the woman, but when they started talking about the vast amounts of Dwarven treasure they were bound to find down there, she was listening with full attention. Since the Blight had ended recently, the men continued, there wouldn't be nearly as many Darkspawn in the Deep Roads as normal, so plundering the treasure would be easy and guarantee wealth to any of those lucky few who managed to secure a spot on the expedition team.

The next morning, Claudia promptly woke Bethany early and dragged her off to Hightown to scout out this Bartrand fellow and persuade him into allowing them onto the expedition with him.

Because of the implications of treasure, everyone in all of Kirkwall was buzzing with his name. Tracking him down was easier than anticipated. The first person the sisters asked about the dwarf knew very little, save the fact that he had strawberry-blonde hair and was just about as surly as the average dwarf. After two more people they managed to track down his office off of the Market-Square of the district.

They headed in apprehensively. Before them was a dwarf matching the description they received. He was yelling at a human man feverishly. "We have to bring the best equipment with us!" He scolded, throwing a crude pickaxe to the floor of the building. It clanked and bounced about an inch off the ground before settling completely. "The Deep Roads were built by the Dwarves, which means that anything not smithed by skilled Dwarven hands will not be able to last the trip!" Like most dwarves Claudia knew, this one seemed to have the same over-zealous pride in Dwarven-made items and would not settle for anything less. She supposed she understood; she had been drooling over a pair of daggers crafted by a smith from Orzammar for about a week now, but sadly couldn't afford them currently.

The human man skulked out of the building, picking up his pick on the way out. Bartrand watched as he exited, which caused him to get a good view at the women who had been watching him argue the whole time. "Who are you?" He barked snappishly, stepping towards the women. He hadn't seen them before, which made him wonder why they would have business with him in the first place. But, everyone in Kirkwall wanted to be his best friend at that very moment, so he had the inkling that this had something to do with his expedition. Everything did as of recent.

"My name is Hawke, and this is my sister, Bethany." Since they were attempting to butter this man up and get into his expedition crew, Claudia decided that a more direct approach was necessary. Sarcasm often got her into trouble, and she was hoping to avoid getting dwarves mad that day. He seemed like the type who wouldn't appreciate her witting remarks as it was, so she figured that she'd save them for someone who was. "We heard that you're going on an expedition to the Deep Roads, and we would like to be part of it."

Bartrand scoffed and headed out the door of the building. Though shocked by his utter disgust in what they had to say, the sisters tailed after him, their long human legs making it easy to catch up rather quickly. Neither understood why he was acting so standoffish towards them; it wasn't like they insulted his mother. "We are skilled with fighting Darkspawn." Bethany added. She was about two paces behind Claudia, who was now walking shoulder-to-hip with Bartrand.

Nothing seemed to change the dwarf's mind. He had heard all sorts of claims about why people should be allowed into his crew and why they would be an asset to the team. He didn't give two genlock's asses about them or their reasons. Maybe it would be different if any of them had the money to help _fund_ the expedition, or if they had maps to the Deep Roads, but none of them did. Even his younger brother was useless as far as that was concerned. But, in his case, he owed it to mother to take the nug-humper with him. "So is everyone else who has been begging to get into my expedition." He spat, trying to lose the women, but finding it impossible. Finally, he turned to the girls as a last-ditch effort to get them to understand that he was not hiring anyone else. "I have enough hirelings for the expedition, so I don't care how skilled you are in killing Darkspawn. Good day."

As Bartrand charged off, Bethany hung her head, troubled by the fact that they had failed to convince him. They needed this opportunity so much if they had any hopes of getting out of Lowtown and out of Gamlen's hovel, but that seemed so far away at the moment. "Now what are we going to do?" She asked, mostly rhetorically. "Without money or titles, I'm sure to get found out. "

"Don't worry about the big, bad Templars, Bethany. I'll always look out for you." Quipped Claudia as an effort to boost her spirits after their utter failure.

"This isn't a joke!" Exasperated, the younger of the sisters paced back and forth, mulling over possible ways to convince Bartrand to let them come with. She understood his logic, honestly, which is what upset her the most about it. He was completely right about not needing another person attempting to weasel into the expedition with little to offer other than muscle. They needed control over something that he needed, like money to fund it. But, if they had money, they wouldn't have been in this mess to begin with.

As the pair stood there considering all of their options, a boy of about sixteen with scarlet hair bumped into Claudia. He pushed past without so much as apologizing. Suspiciously, the woman reached for her purse which had been dangling off of her belt loop, only to find that the sack of money was gone, and the boy was now sprinting through Hightown to elude them. "Thief!" She howled, sprinting off after the young man. But, he had quite the lead on her; he would probably lose her.

Her and Bethany went dashing through the streets of Hightown, not caring if they knocked over someone. The money that was in her purse was to feed them that night, and all she had as of that moment. If they lost it, their poor mother would go hungry. Still, the boy was quicker and more agile than either of them. He wove around the people who walked the streets skillfully, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to see if he had shaken the women off of his trail.

Suddenly, an arrow cam whizzing out of nowhere and caught the young thief square in the shoulder. He was pinned to the wall, unable to move. Another dwarf, similar in appearance to Bartrand, though beard-less, approached, snatching up the sack of coins from the thief. He said something discreetly to the boy and pulled the arrow free, twirling it around the fingers of his left hand cheerfully as he approached the women. "Afternoon, ladies." He said charmingly, tossing the purse to Claudia, which she caught and secured at her hip once again.

"Afternoon." Greeted Claudia. She was honestly quite relieved that this dwarf had stepped in when he did, but failed to voice it. Still, she found it odd that he would help them when they didn't even know him. Most of the people of Kirkwall were out to help themselves; very few willingly stepped out of their way to offer assistance to another. She knew this because she was the same way; things were bad enough for her family, so she couldn't afford to help others out so outwardly. "Do I know you?"

"No." Admitted the Dwarf. He was smiling lightly at them, as if he was the cat the swallowed the canary. "But I know you. You're Hawke, former member of the Red Iron, and she," he motioned towards Bethany, "is your younger sister, Bethany. You're Ferelden, and you're trying to get on Bartrand's expedition." He smiled again as he tucked his arrow he had been holding back into the quiver that was strapped to his back with a handsome-looking crossbow.

Claudia couldn't help but chuckle a little at the fact that he knew so much about her, and yet the only things she knew about him were based on appearances alone. "I see that my reputation precedes me, but that still doesn't tell me who you are, other than a dwarf with some impressive skills with a crossbow." She really did have to marvel at his ability to stop that boy in his tracked. And, that crossbow did look well-made. It was probably worth a fair bit of coin.

"Varric Tethras, at your service." He bowed comically, trying to make the women laugh at his antics. He could see the drive that these two had, the will to do whatever they had to do to get what the desired out of life. That was exactly the sort of person he had been looking for all week, and while he had his eye on the mercenary siblings, he wasn't sure until he had spied them heading into Bartrand's office that they were the ones that he truly wanted.

Bethany quirked an eyebrow. The dwarf had the same last name as Bartrand, which made it impossible to chalk up the resemblance to being just the fact that she felt as though all dwarves looked the same. "Tethras? Does that mean that you're related to Bartrand?" She inquired.

With another wily grin, Varric turned his attention to Bethany. "It does—he's my older brother. And, I think I know a way to get the two of you onto his expedition." He paused, though didn't really expect either of them to respond in the time his allotted for his words to sink in. "Bartrand was right to tell you that we don't need another hireling. We need a partner, though, someone who can help fund the expedition; unlike me, he didn't see the potential that the two of you hold. He couldn't see a good opportunity if it bit him in the ass. Fifty sovereigns is all it will take, and your position will be secured."

"Fifty?" Claudia nearly fell over at the amount Varric was suggesting that she needed to collect. Fifty sovereigns were enough to buy them a house in Lowtown and feed them for months. That was enough to buy the most ornate of daggers and receive a perky grin from the smith crafting them, even if she was a complete bitch about every last detail. "Where am I supposed to get that sort of coin?"

"You're a skilled woman, Hawke, and there's plenty of work in Kirkwall for those not afraid of getting their hands a bit dirty. Put a bit aside after every job, and you'll have the money in no time. I promise."

Finding no answers in Bethany's face, Claudia felt compelled to make a decision on the matter herself. This dwarf, though seemingly a spy, had an honest face and had nothing to gain out of helping them. He was more than likely apart of the expedition himself, so lying about it would do him little good. The downsides involved mostly getting together the appropriate coin and having this Varric either steal it, or them not getting onto the expedition. Those were fears that she was hardly plagued by, however; she doubted if they would ever come to fruition. "Well, I've got nothing better to do. I suppose I could try."

Varric grinned, adjusting the strap that kept his crossbow on his back. He was happy to see that these women listened to reason and wagered that they would be good friends to have in the months ahead. He liked interesting people, people with stories to tell and stories ahead of them that had yet to happen. These two had many to share, he wagered, and eagerly waited to hear them. There was still another, more pertinent matter at hand than his love of tales, which was the fact that Bartrand's chosen entrance had proven to be a bust. "Hawke, before you go out looking for coin, I should probably tell you that as of right now, we need maps to find a good entrance into the Deep Roads." As he spoke, he motioned for the women to follow him in his walk out of Hightown. His pace was leisurely, as if to enjoy the sights that the city had to offer. Not that he was particularly fond of Hightown; the people and places of Lowtown had so much more character.

"Is the entrance we have a bad one?" Asked the woman jokingly. Her and Bethany had since begun following him. Her eyes glanced over the sight of the city on the steps of Lowtown. From there, she noticed, it was hard to see how bad things really were for the other districts. Darktown wasn't even visible, so the beggars who normally called that part of Kirkwall home were invisible to her eyes. This was probably what made it so easy for the nobles of Hightown to delude themselves into believing that Kirkwall was such a perfect little utopian society; they didn't need to see starving children, or the Tranquil being displayed like animals in a zoo at the Gallows. All they saw was the lovely architecture of their little slice of paradise.

"The point of this expedition is to find the most amount of treasure in the shortest amount of time." Explained Varric. He really didn't expect either of them to understand, seeing as they didn't have to listen to Bartrand drone on about this for the better part of two months now. "We had an entrance, but it turned out to be a bust. But, if we had maps to the Deep Roads here in the Free Marches, we could scout the entrances and find the most promising one."

"Do you know someone who has these maps?" Bethany asked. At this point, they were descending the last few stairs into the Lowtown bazaar, which was, as usual, buzzing with people trying to get their shopping for the day done in one fell swoop. The three of them had to dodge the incoming bodies masterfully just to walk without running into someone on accident.

Varric, who was walking a couple of paces ahead of the sisters, stopped and turned to Bethany. "As it so happens, I do. Sort of. A Ferelden Gray Warden supposedly came to Kirkwall not that long ago with a bunch of other refugees. If anyone would have maps to the Deep Roads, he would." He knew that convincing them to go talk to a Gray Warden was probably going to fail. The people in the order didn't exactly have the best of reputations for being hospitable or agreeable. Varric supposed it made sense, seeing as they often conscripted criminals, blood mages, and other less-than-reputed individuals for the sake of bolstering their ranks.

Claudia gave the dwarf a wary glance. She didn't even know where to begin finding a Gray Warden; the only two she knew of were King and Queen Consort of Ferelden. They had no need to seek refuge in Kirkwall. And, even if she did know where to find one, she didn't know how to convince one to give her his maps. They fought Darkspawn for a living, so she figured that they could resist her charm quite well. "Where would I even find one, permitting your story is actually true?"

With only a simple gesture to his right, Varric replied. Both girls looked towards the direction he had motioned to, seeing a simple wood door perched atop a small flight of stairs. Occasionally, they would see a Ferelden go in or out, and the sound of desperate chattering could be heard every time the door was opened. "A woman named Lirene supposedly knows where to find him, and she runs a shop just through that door." The dwarf added, to help solidify his claims that it wasn't impossible to find this Warden if the three of them just worked a little for it.

Obviously, Varric's trek was purposeful to lead them to this door. At least, that was what Claudia felt. She was in no mood to argue or to put up a fight, so she ascended the stairs and headed in.

There had to be no less than fifteen people in the shop, all Ferelden, judging by their clothes. All of which were rushing the makeshift counter, attempting to grab the attention of the middle-aged woman who was running the cashbox. She looked frazzled, her greying hair falling out of place as she gave instructions to everyone in turn. No one seemed to be listening to her, though, which only added to her plethora of frustrations. In the commotion, things were getting knocked off of shelves and rolling about the floor, making it hard to take a step without the fear of breaking something that this woman no doubt hoped to sell.

"Please, one at a time!" She boomed, motioning for the crowd to merge towards a younger woman who looked considerably like her to her right. "If you are Ferelden and seek aid in finding work, talk to my girl. If you're here to shop, come talk to me." With those words, the people seemed to divide. Most of which headed towards the younger of the two women.

Since they were not looking for work, and all three of them had the feeling that Lirene was the older of the two women, they headed for the empty line of people. She gave them a questionable look as they approached. Clearly, they did not need help in any sense; they all had nice clothes and seemed to be well-acquainted with the city. "I cannot help you here." She said, trying her best not to sound hostile or rude. "I offer charity to the Ferelden refugees who escaped the Blight, but I cannot help those who have already found lodgings and work."

"Good thing I'm not here to ask for help in the capacity." Claudia remarked with a grin. Her fingers were busy tracing shapes into the worn wood of the countertop the woman was using. It was one of Malcolm's many nervous habits that she had picked up as a child. "I hear that there is a Ferelden Warden somewhere and Kirkwall. I'd like to speak with him."

"The only Wardens I know of are the King and Queen of Ferelden." Snapped Lirene viciously. The way her eyes darted about made it look as though she was hiding something.

A woman in the crowd turned her attention to Lirene and the other three. "The healer was a Warden once." She piped up.

Lirene sighed, clearly not wanting anyone to bring up that detail. But, the two women and the dwarf had heard it, so there was no use feigning ignorance any longer. "I do not want you disturbing the healer." She explained, almost pleading. Her eyes remained cold, however, as if to scare them away. "He heals our wounds, delivers our children, cures our illnesses, all without thought of coin. He is a good man, serah, and I would hate to see something bad happen to him."

Claudia could tell that Lirene was implying that the healer she spoke of was some sort of mage. If he were just a chemist, or knowledgeable in healing techniques, she doubted if the woman would have been so hesitant about sharing what she knew about him. Everything that was said, though, interested her incredibly. He sounded like a decent person, putting his own livelihood on the line in order to keep people healthy. It sounded a bit far-fetched, to think that there were people in the world who still would risk everything to help others. People like that only existed in fairy tales. "Tell me he's handsome with amazing eyes. I'll marry him on the spot." At the joke, Claudia received an elbow in her rib from Bethany. Her sister was not clearly pleased about the sarcasm in this situation.

Lirene laughed once in response to the comment she received about all of the healer's good deeds towards the Ferelden refugees. "He's handsome alright, but there's a sadness behind his eyes that I just can't place. It's as if he's lost more than all of us combined. I suppose I could tell you; Anders doesn't turn anyone else away: Look for the door with the lit lantern above it in Darktown, the healer will be inside. If you have need, he will be there."

The three offered their thanks to Lirene and headed off to Darktown. The poverty-stricken district smelled especially of sewage that day, causing them all to cover their noses with their sleeves. Bethany seemed to be the most miserable of the lot. The smells were giving her an awful headache, and her thin sleeve was doing little to prevent the stench from finding her nostrils. When they got back to Gamlen's she would have to nap for a spell to help heal herself of the affliction.

Determined, Claudia walked through Darktown on a mission. She was going to find this healer and request that he give them the maps. There weren't many doors in the district, seeing as it was the sewers, though, so finding their destination was simple. It was on the far side of Darktown, and just as Lirene had stated, it was the door with the single lit lantern.

Inside, the three found the woman who had mentioned the healer in the first place. She was standing over a small cot, which a young boy was lying on, his eyes clenched shut as he was encompassed by a blue light. The light in question was emanating from the hands of a man with blonde hair, whom they had to assume was the healer and Gray Warden in question. From their distance, none of them could get a good look at his face. He was standing behind the cot, though facing the door. He seemed so involved with what he was doing that he couldn't even see that there were people in his clinic.

Within moments, the boy's eyes fluttered open, his face devoid of any pain. He cast a cheerful smile towards the healer and turned to his mother, who gratefully gave him a hug and headed out of the clinic with her child at her side.

The healer, clearly fatigued by his sustained spell casting, placed his hands into the vacant cot in order to rest. He stayed like that for some time before he noticed that there were three strangers in his clinic. Without even examining them first, he spun around and grabbed his bladed staff that was leaning against the pillar to his right. "Leave this place at once!" He demanded, his left hand flying out into an outstretched position as to threaten the use of magic if they stepped any closer. "I have made this place a sanctuary."

Having been familiar with how painful magic could be, Claudia threw her hands up into the air as if to surrender prior to a fight even breaking out. She had enough burn scars from when Bethany was still learning to control her magic to attest to this. But, she did take a few leery steps forward so that they could talk about what she had come there for in the first place. "I mean you, or your patients, no harm." Admitted the woman, now within a distance at which the man could strike her effectively. Perhaps she was a little too trusting of complete strangers, or maybe it was that she found him a bit attractive, but she doubted if he would attack, Gray Warden or not. "Bethany?" She added, giving her sister the queue to show just how little harm she really meant towards mages.

Taking the hint, Bethany channeled her energy into her left hand, causing a bundle of blue lightning to form in her palm. She sustained it for several seconds, just to make sure that the man got a good view of it before she released it completely.

Now that he took a better look at the group, he could tell that they were not threatening to take them to the Gallows. The two girls bore some facial similarities, so he wagered that they were sisters; the one with the daggers more than likely helped the one who used magic hide from the watchful eye of the Templars. They both were attractive by all accounts. Had he been a man younger by about a year, he would have been weaving a few choice lines for both of them at that very moment in the hopes of getting one, or both, of them in bed. None of this made him trust either of them, but it did cause him to replace his weapon and put down his hand, opening them up to request whatever it was that they had come to him for.

"This is…quite the place for a Gray Warden to live, don't you think? I always had it in my head that they all lived in a lavish castle and feasted on succulent meats and full-bodied ale when they weren't in battle." Chorused Claudia, obviously joking. She really didn't know much about the order, other than the fact that they could conscript anyone they wanted and that they were in charge of killing the archdemon in the event of a Blight.

"The ale part is true." Admitted the Warden without skipping a beat. Every one of her assumptions about the Wardens on down time was actually true, for that matter. But, his Commander _was_ the queen of Ferelden, so he expected nothing less. "There was a whole cask the size of an ogre in our common area. To be fair, though, we did have a dwarf in our ranks who fought better belligerently drunk than he did sober." Something about the woman made him feel comfortable in her presence. If she had come to drag him back to the Wardens, or worse, he would fight her no question. He highly doubted that she was there for that, though. Had the Wardens sent her, she would have gotten straight to business, opposed to joking about the order.

Claudia couldn't help but giggle a bit at the statement about the drunk dwarf. She wondered if it was true, but knew that they had something more important to deal with than her lingering curiosity about times that had passed. "You're Anders, right? I'm part of an expedition to the Deep Roads and I hear that you have Warden maps—"

"—If I never step foot in the blighted Deep Roads ever again, it would be too soon." Snapped Anders. He hated the place incredibly and didn't want to hear a word about them for the precious remaining years of his life. This woman looked like to sort who didn't take no for an answer, he feared.

Although she hated to do it, Claudia dusted off the skills she had learned when evading the Templars and cast Anders her best pitiful glance. Those maps meant so much more to her than money. It meant the ability to protect Bethany and to give her mother the life she deserved. It wasn't fair that Gamlen got to sell the estate without so much as asking their mother if she was comfortable with it. Nor was it fair that they had to sleep on the filthy floor and share a room after all they've been through. "I can make it worth your while."

"If I wanted money, I would be charging for healing those people." Admitted Anders briskly. He didn't want to give up those maps because he was afraid that someone else would stumble into the Deep Roads and die at the hands of the Darkspawn. As a Warden, it was his duty to protect people from that, and while he wasn't upholding most of his duties as a member of the order, he could at least claim that he was doing that.

Varric stepped up this time, a wolfish grin on his face denoting that he had something to say that amused him quite a bit. "Hawke can make it worth your while in other ways, Blondie." Having already forgotten the Warden's name, the dwarf decided a nickname was in order until he could learn his name for good. It was a suitable one, he thought. "She's a good-looking girl; I'm sure you can think of _some_ way to have her repay you for them."

"Varric!" Yelped Bethany in response to the dwarf attempting to pimp out her sister out. That was almost as bad as the indentured servitude Gamlen had forced them into just a year ago.

Anders was completely stunned by what the dwarf had offered. "I…uh." His ears went slightly red at the implications, even if he was about ninety-nine percent sure that he was joking. A younger Anders would have taken the offer, un-abashed about trading something as valuable as his maps for sex. She was pretty, no matter how he thought of the situation, but he was not so desperate as to take their offer. If they were that desperate, though, he wondered if they would help him with something else. His mind flashed elsewhere before returning to the conversation at hand. "A favor for a favor." He told himself aloud, turning back to the woman. "I will trade you my maps I you help me with something."

"Anything. Your maps could mean saving lives on the expedition."

A peculiar look befell the woman as she offered to help him without even inquiring about what he needed. She was lucky that he wasn't asking for Knight-Commander Meredith's head on a pike, or something equally as impossible and stupid to accomplish. "I have a friend, a fellow mage, in the Circle. I asked him in a letter to come meet me at the Chantry tonight; I had been planning on aiding him in his escape. But, I fear that he will be followed by Templars. If you help me with this, my maps are yours."

In Claudia's mind, there was no other option. Those maps were her ticket out of Lowtown, so whatever offer this man had to make, she had to, at the very least, consider it. Templars were always something she looked upon with contempt, similarly. She had always believed in the freedom of mages due to her upbringing, so there was no conflict of interest in her mind. "I'll do it."

"Good. Then meet me at the Chantry tonight. If all goes well, we'll all walk out free."


	6. Chapter 6

Dragon Age Origins and II belong to Electronic Arts and Bioware

* * *

After Leandra had gone to sleep that night, Claudia and Bethany snuck out of the house. Gamlen was gone; he said that he had gone out drinking, but the girls had the sneaking suspicion that he was really being entertained by one of the girls at the Rose. It would explain why he never had any money and always reeked of cheap perfume and desperation. That would also explain why he was never at the Hanged Man when he said he was going to be there. Normally, it wouldn't be their place to judge, but with all of the other things he did, he just seemed worse. This made them want to find their own house somewhere all the more.

The streets were eerily silent and devoid of the usual rabble. As always, The Hanged Man was buzzing, but there were no drunkards sitting outside, attempting to sober up in the crisp night air. There were no thugs, attempting to lift what precious coins that the aforementioned drunkards still had on them after the bartender cut them off and refused to serve them anymore. The moon was full, though, and it illuminated the streets beautifully with its soft blue glow. Had they lived in a more beautiful area, the night would be quite pleasing. But, seeing as they called Lowtown home, all the sights were of the ugly chains that held the city to its roots in the earth, and all the smells were of low-quality ale and un-bathed bodies.

On their way to meeting up with Varric and then heading to the Chantry, Bethany turned to her sister. She had been in good spirits since meeting that mage in Darktown. It probably wasn't any of her business, and she had no reason to pry, but she was curious about what she had thought of the man. To Bethany, he was reminiscent of their father. The way he carried himself was so much like Malcolm. Maybe she just felt as though he was a kindred spirit because he was another mage and she had only met one other one in her whole life. "What do you think of that Anders?" She asked, genuinely curious about what her sister had to say.

Claudia walked at a brisk pace, eager to get to the Chantry soon. She wasn't fond of the idea that Bethany had come with, but her sister hadn't given her much option. They would be fighting Templars, which was a situation that she tried to avoid for her sister at all costs. This time, she would do the right thing by her sibling and protect her at the cost of relinquishing her own life. For Bethany, she had lived the last nineteen years that way. Her sister's question caught her off-guard and caused her to contemplate her feelings towards the male mage. They had only just met them, but she could already tell that he was a troubled man with a huge weight on his shoulders. Her assumption was that this had to do with the taint within him. But, in some strange way, she was attracted to that. Ever since she was a little girl, she knew that she would probably prefer the company of mages above non-magic males. His presence only affirmed her theory. "I think he's sort of cute, you know, in a 'raggedy underdog' sort of way."

"Really?" Boomed Bethany excitedly. "There's something about him that makes me think of Father. I just can't quite place my finger on it." As they continued on, Bethany thought dreamily of what her sister had said. It made her wonder if he thought that Claudia was cute as well. She thought that they would be cute together, as reminiscent to their parents' relationship it would be. Perhaps, with enough effort, she could ebb the two of them together. Her sister was getting older, almost to the age where men would start to consider her un-marriageable, so she would need to act quickly.

Varric was waiting for the two women at the stairs to Hightown. His faithful crossbow glistened in the moonlight. Though he had no opinions either way about the Templars, he was more than willing to go along for the ride and enjoy it. If anything, it would make for an interesting story to tell later on down the line. If he was lucky, it would be so eventful as to be deemed good enough to be included in his next book. At the very worst, people would be talking about it come tomorrow morning. In retrospect, the latter was actually still pretty good. "How's the night treating you, Sunshine?" Asked the dwarf, addressing Bethany specifically.

"Sunshine?" The pet name's meaning seemed to elude her, and as they climbed the steps into Hightown, she contemplated its meaning. The name he had called the mage earlier made perfect sense, but hers was still rather confusing to her.

"I give everyone nicknames." Explained Varric with a chipper tone. "I draw inspiration for my stories from the people around me, so giving them nicknames helps to provide a sense of privacy to those people in the event that I decide to include them in one of them." Not that he really cared about the people he knew having any sort of privacy, but it did prevent a lot of angry people beating down the door to his suite in The Hanged Man because he used their likeness and real name in a way that they were not quite approving of. It happened once before, and it was quite the unpleasant situation. It made for interesting tension in the book he was writing at the time, though.

Hightown took on an entirely different appearance at night. During the day, the estates were architectural splendors, decorating the city in the way that fine jewels did a beautiful woman's neck. At night, however, they cast the most horrifying of shadows, their twisted forms stretching through the streets and ensnaring everything within their reach. They were like horrible monsters, devouring their prey without remorse. The people were vastly different when the sun went to sleep at night as well. Normally, the citizens of Hightown wore brightly colored garments in the softest and most exotic of fabrics. They all parade about like pompous peacocks on display, looking to either show off or to find a new mate. At night, only the men and women who were seduced by the prospect of pleasurable company stalked the streets. The jingling in their purses was one of the only sounds, save the pleas of the occasional muggings that happened when the sun was extinguished.

The group of three could count themselves among the lucky, however, seeing as they made it all the way to the Chantry without a single attack. Anders was waiting atop the steps, pacing nervously by the door until he saw them approach.

Honestly, he had expected them not to show. He wouldn't have blamed them if they didn't; the dark-haired girl was an apostate, much like him. But, she wasn't so wrapped up in the issues with the Templars as he to go foolishly charging in to liberate every mage she could possibly save. Similarly, he couldn't say that he wasn't jealous of her life. To have someone like that Hawke woman always watching ones back had to be a nice feeling. It must've been freeing to have family that wouldn't call for the Templars at the first sign of a magical child. "Karl is just inside. Let me talk to him first." Anders' words were hasty and hushed as they approached; he hardly gave them time to respond as he opened the doors cautiously and stepped inside.

Inside the Chantry was dark and foreboding. Only the candles upon their stand lit the building decorated in gold and red. Normally filled with the religious and the ones who swore their lives to the Maker. In the dark, without all of these people clamoring about to serve their god, it was an entirely different place.

The mage took up the lead, creeping silently though the building of the Maker as a mouse around a sleeping cat. He was being careful not to wake the Brothers and Sisters who were sleeping on the floors above them. Being unaccustomed to such 'cloak and dagger' situations, he failed to check if there were people hiding among the shadows and ascended the stairs that led to where he had instructed Karl to wait for him.

Karl was indeed waiting, his eyes fixated on the fireplace in the corner. Anders couldn't get a good view of his face, but was certainly relieved to see that his friend managed to get away from the Templars for that night. They could hide his fellow mage in the Clinic, and maybe, if they were willing, he could ask Hawke and her companions to help him destroy Karl's phylactery. These were the fantasies of a younger man, a man who was naïve to the darkness of the world. But, these fantasies were all that he could hope for at the moment. "Karl, I—" He breathed out, attempting to relay his fears to his friend. They would laugh about it and he would buy a drink for lot of them to apologize for his silliness.

But, as Karl turned around, his worst fears were realized. The brand shone red against Karl's pale skin. His eyes were drained of any sort of feeling. He had been made Tranquil. "Anders." The man spoke without emotion. "The Templars knew you would come. They had hoped that I would be bait enough to draw you out, and they were right."

Whilst Karl spoke, Claudia's own nightmares were coming true. As if born from the darkness, a slew of ten to twelve Templars crawled out from the shadows, each had their snake-like gaze fixated on the four of them. Anders didn't realize it; he was too preoccupied with his friend. But, the others were drawing their weapons in preparation for the bloodbath that was about to be. "Anders." The woman called out in attempt to get his attention. "You should probably say good-bye to Karl now."

"What have they done to you?" Pleaded Anders, his face contorting into a mixture of confusion and anger. He could hardly believe his own eyes. Turning a mage who went through the Harrowing Tranquil was an offense against the Chantry. And yet, here was Karl, once a seasoned spell-caster, now reduced to mopping the floors and cleaning the chamber pots in the Gallows.

"Don't you see, Anders? This is the only way." Karl was spouting out all of the information that the Templars had fed his simplified brain, repeating every syllable like a parrot. "This is the only way for a mage to master himself."

By now, the group was completely encompassed by the Templars. Their blades caught the light through the large stained glass windows and glinted menacingly as a reaction. There was no choice but to fight, lest they be forced to do the hangman's dance for conspiring to free mages from the Gallows. But before any could truly get close enough, Anders fell to his knees, clutching his head in his hands. He looked as though he was breaking apart at the seams, quite literally seeing as lines of blue light shone out from his skin. Whatever was happening, he was trying desperately to fight it, and was clearly losing.

The man bolted to his feet, his eyes glowing horrifyingly blue. His electric gaze met the group of Templars who were advancing quickly. "You shall not have him or any other mage!" The voice that came out was not his own, but that of some other worldly creature. Without another thought, he sprang into action, wielding the bladed staff as if he was a skilled martial artist. He wove around the enemies with a skill that only a mage could have, using bursts of his magic as projectiles to hit the Templars who thought it wise to stay a little further away. Channeling his magic through his left hand, there was a continuous flow of lightning or ice emanating from the man's practiced fingers steadily. His still with spells made his time as a Gray Warden who served under the Hero of Ferelden immensely obvious. With this technique, Anders managed to kill about four of the Templars with ease.

Two of the Templars had Bethany cornered. She could tell that they knew her secret just by looking at her; they didn't train years only to miss an obvious target. Her hand went up in an orange flame, which she fired at the closer of the two. She grinned to herself in satisfaction as he was knocked back about five feet and gave her a bit more maneuverability. Though, she would never stray far from Claudia. For the other, who was now completely positive that she needed to be brought back to the Circle, she used her staff as a blunt instrument, hitting him with lightning speed over and again until he fell to the ground, spent.

"Finally! A bit of action!" Boisterously remarked Varric, loading his crossbow and shooting one of the Templars right in the neck. He caressed Bianca's frame lovingly at the hit, taking a sick sort of enjoyment in the gurgle that the enemy had made as his life waned. That was a detail that he would have to remember for future reference, but for now, he was expertly loading his weapon of choice yet again. His stout legs carried him to another vantage point, one that would make it harder for enemy hits to land, but still offered a fair bit of aim for himself. From his new location, he could see each of his companions as well. He didn't say it aloud, but he was keeping score, counting each of their kills and tallying them up to see who was truly the more effective killer. Varric took out two more of the Templars from his new spot, secretly relishing in the exhilaration that battle gave him.

Claudia was left with the Lieutenant. He had initially went to attack Bethany, but was stopped when she blocked his path. Not even the Knight-Commander herself could take her younger sister away when she was as determined as she was right then. It would take an army to move Claudia from her watchful post. She couldn't see his eyes as she attempted to dart behind him and strike at his vulnerable back, be she could have sworn that he was glowering at her. He was just as fast as she, which made her attacks relatively ineffective seeing as he was blocking most of them and his armor was so heavy. She did find an opening to get behind him when he looked up to see one of his underlings felled by Anders' ice spell, allowing her to get several unblocked hits in. In her over-confidence, however, she forgot to dodge as he whirled around, his sword making a sizeable gash in the left side of her waist where her armor was weakest. The woman winced as pain seared through her, but continued on, getting lucky enough to sever a major artery and defeating her foe once and for all.

With every Templar slew, Karl looked up at Anders, who had since ceased glowing. His eyes went wide at the sight of his friend; unfamiliar shock was spelled all over his face. "Anders! What is this? It is…it's like a piece of the Fade lives within you!" Emotion returned to his voice as he attempted to explain what he was feeling to the others. Words couldn't describe what he was feeling.

Bethany was thoroughly confused. Being made Tranquil was a fate that one could not be cured of, but yet here was this man, showing obvious signs of having the effects reversed. "I thought that he was made Tranquil." The statement was more for herself than any of the others. She knew that the procedure cut mages off from the Fade, making them unable to wield magic and unable to feel or dream, but this was just unbelievable.

Claudia tried her best to concentrate on what was being said by everyone, but the pain from her injury was throbbing incredibly. She cupped her right hand over the wound, feeling the soft squish of the blood-soaked tunic underneath her armor as she did so. Much too proud to say anything and cause her sibling to worry, the woman propped herself against the wall and gritted her teeth. All she wanted to do was wrap this up and return home to dress the laceration in privacy.

In her injured stupor, Claudia had entirely missed a portion of the conversation. When her attention managed to return to what was happened, all she happened to notice was a simple knife in Anders' hand. It glinted menacingly as its pointed end faced Karl.

"Do it now, before it goes away—Why are you looking at me like that?" Just as suddenly as Karl had begun feeling at whatever mystical powers Anders had brought into the world with the blue glowing, the emotion faded and his eyes were devoid of any sort of feeling once again. He couldn't hardly recognize his friend before him; he wasn't even a vague memory from a long time ago.

With much difficulty, Anders approached the man. The blade stopped momentary at Karl's navel as the man worked up the courage to do what he had been requested to. His heart wasn't in it, but he knew that if Karl would extend the same courtesy to him if he had asked it. "I'm sorry, friend." Coughed out the mage. He allowed his simplistic blade a taste of blood and flesh as he applied pressure and it sank into Karl's stomach. With a painful grunt, the Tranquil sank to the floor, his blood forming a small puddle beneath his lifeless corpse.

Anders didn't cry; he had lost many friends before, and would lose many still before the taint or the Templars claimed him. He had been through too much to lose it every time he saw someone die. Dropping the knife, the mage turned away and started to head for the stairs to get out. No doubt, some of the Brothers and Sisters of the Chantry were woken by the commotion, and they would have to leave soon. "We should get out of here before anyone finds out."

Claudia tried to leave just as the others were, but her head was spinning from blood loss. Her crimson life force waned from her repetitiously with its drip, drip, dripping, leaving a trail behind her. Before she could even make it to the stairs, her knees knocked together from weakness and she collapsed. The pain was still surging through her entire body every few seconds, but she felt as though she had been hiding it well until she could no longer support her own weight. Even breathing was becoming difficult for her at that moment.

"Claudia!" Exclaimed Bethany as she watched her sister go down right before her. Falling to her knees, she quickly started to examine her sister to find what was the cause of the sudden collapse. Her arms and legs were quivering, and her face was pale and slightly dewy with sweat. The hand that was holding her left side with blood streaming down her bony fingers continuously was her red flag, though. "You're hurt! Why didn't you tell anyone?"

A hoarse chuckle exited Claudia as her sister fretted over her. She was in pain, yes, she was bleeding, yes, but so was her life. There was no way that her life would be average or uneventful, especially when she swore herself to the protection of her apostate sister. "Because then you'd worry." She smiled, pressing her hand a little harder into her bleeding body as a means to stop the steady flow. It only sent another bolt of pain from the laceration up into her core, causing her to clench her jaw once again and try to focus on anything else but her own bodily issues. "The Templar I was fighting was going straight for you, but I wouldn't let him." Explained the woman, her blue eyes trained on her sister's brown ones. "I told you earlier that I wouldn't let the big, bad Templars get you."

Anders watched as the sisters talked about the injury that Hawke had sustained. This clearly was his time to act, but with Bethany in the way, he couldn't do anything about it. "Could you please move aside, Bethany? So that I can get a better look?" When the girl shimmied to her sister's uninjured side, he took her spot. His hands found Hawke's right wrist and shoulder respectively, attempting to get her to move her hand so he could have a good look at her wound. When her hand wouldn't budge from the spot in question, he looked up into her face. "I have to move your hand if I'm going to heal you." The man explained gently. He had to respect her, for putting herself in such danger for someone else, let alone a mage. He had seen many parents and many siblings sacrifice their loved ones to the Circle because they were mages. And yet, here this woman was, bleeding out slowly because a Templar had given her sister a strange look.

Claudia's arm lost tension and the man moved it aside gingerly. His eyes were greeted by the sight of her tunic underneath her breastplate soaking up all of her blood like a sponge. But, the torn cloth made it difficult for him to judge the severity of her injury. "I have to remove your breastplate to see it better." Although he didn't phrase it as a question, Anders was clearly asking permission to remove the article. Some people were sensitive about such things; he wanted to be sure that Hawke wasn't one of these people before he started to strip her.

"Blondie, you rascal!" Chortled Varric enthusiastically. He was very well aware that the mage was not coming on to Hawke, but the thought of him doing so amused him so. He had been standing behind Bethany the whole time, observing with curiosity as the other two fretted over the woman. She was tough, tougher than either of them were giving her credit for being, which was why he wasn't too worried. "You should at least buy her a drink before asking her to get naked!"

The buckles that kept her breastplate attached to the back plate were slowing being undone by Hawke's shaking, though nimble fingers. Had she not been dealing with the throbbing pain, she may have had a witty remark for Varric or about being asked to remove her clothes. But, as it was, it was hard to take her mind off of it, she couldn't think of any on the fly. Though, she was a bit curious about that blue, glowing thing that the mage had done not that long ago. The change in his voice and demeanor led her to believe that he was some sort of high-functioning abomination. "So, about the glowing thing you did."

The whole time, Anders knew that one of them would ask about what had happened. He considered his words carefully as he helped the woman with the blood-stained armor she was struggling with. The wool tunic underneath was streaked with red all the way up to her breasts, soaking up every drop that it touched hungrily. "I knew that this would come up." The man admitted; his fingers danced over the hemming of the shirt before he lifted it up over the gash, exposing her up to the base of her ribcage. His cold hand pressed into her flesh near the laceration once as a measure to see how severe of a wound he was dealing with.

"When I was a Warden, I had a…a _friend_, a spirit of Justice that was trapped outside the Fade. After the business with the talking Darkspawn—"

"—That was real?" Interrupted Claudia. She winced at the feeling of his hands near the tender wound, but didn't lurch away. He was trying to help her.

"Yes, it was real." Now having the knowledge he needed about the nature of her injury, Anders rubbed his hands together. They took on a soft blue glow, illuminating the otherwise dark Chantry. He gingerly held both of his effulgent hands about an inch above the wound, concentrating all of his energy into the gaping hole. "As I was saying, after the business with that talking Darkspawn, my _friend's_ host was spent; he would have died without another host, so I welcomed him to use me. But, once we were joined, everything changed. My hatred towards the Templars seemed to warp him, to turn him into that…that thing you saw. When I lose control, Justice takes over, except he isn't my friend Justice anymore, but a spirit of vengeance."

Anders' words hit Claudia all at once. She had heard of such things, but her knowledge mainly consisted of hushed conversations with her father when no one was around. Such was how she gained most of her information about mages, but it served her well enough. Something about the tragic story he had told piqued the woman's interest in him, though. She already found him a bit attractive, and the Templar-hating mage angle was probably only furthering that, but for some odd reason, the spirit was a turn-on. "That's sort of sexy. You should play up the 'tortured, possessed mage' persona a little more with women; you'll get a lot further that you'd think." Her tone was seductive as she spoke.

Although he didn't take his eyes from his work at-hand, Anders was taken off-guard by the remark. Prior to Justice, he was used to doing all of the wooing with women. But here was Hawke, blatantly flirting. He chalked it up to blood-loss, and continued to move his skilled hands along the length of the wound, watching it close up nicely. "I'll have to keep that in mind." He chimed, a light note about him as he spoke in response. As soon as those words poured off of his lips, however, some angry thoughts about her bubbled to the forefront. It was obvious that this was how Justice felt, seeing as Anders had no real problems about the woman. In fact, he found her to be a skilled fighter, a decent person, and fairly attractive. This was one of the few instances in which he and his stowaway were not in agreement.

For a few moments, silence was upon the four as Anders finished healing. He was weak from battle, so his magic power was depleted. As such, he could only heal her wound most of the way. The bleeding had stopped, and it looked as though she could be on her way without agitating it or causing further injury. "I'm sorry. This was all I could do." The man sat back momentarily and examined the wound curiously. After some rest, though, he knew that he would be able to finish the job completely. "Come by my Clinic tomorrow. I'll heal it the rest of the way."

Since Anders had finished, Bethany had made herself busy with helping her sister into her armor. She had been apprehensively waiting for them to leave, afraid that someone had heard the commotion they had caused. They seemed lucky, though, seeing as they were alone amongst the dead. She dutifully helped her older sister to her feet, and as the males were before her, headed outside.

The brisk night air hit them like a ton of bricks, but it was refreshing after what they had been though. Each of them was fatigued, and Claudia could hardly walk without leaning on Bethany for support. But, they were alive, so they were lucky.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: I meant to post this sooner, but my weekend was a bit crazy. In short, I pulled a muscle in my neck, so it's pretty painful to sit with my head elevated and at the computer for extended periods of time, and my charge (as I'm a nanny) got pretty sick on Sunday, so my whole day was spent playing nurse-maid.

Dragon Age Origins and II belong to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

Sleep did not come for easy to Claudia that night. Though Anders did all he could for her injury the night before, the throbbing pain made itself known whenever she would roll over onto her left side. Every so often, the woman would pull her eyes open and examine her surroundings, hoping to see her mother or sister awake an unable to rest. Just as expected, they were always fast asleep. Due to the lack of windows, there was no judging what time it was or if it would be okay to start heading to Darktown to get the injury completely healed.

Off in the other room, Gamlen could be heard shuffling about with a cough. He relieved himself loudly, and for an extended period before he shambled back to his cot to sleep away the rest of the day. Claudia knew his habits quite well after living with him for a year, so she found it a good time to rise.

The woman put her hand to the blood-stained gash in her tunic, which was all she was wearing other than her smallclothes. The blood had dried and hardened the patch of wool fabric, making it unwavering and stiff. Her armor was lying next to her on the floor, which she fastened to her chest with practiced precision. The gladiator skirt was slipped on around her waist slowly; the leather pleats were cold against her thighs, like an unfamiliar man's hand.

Creeping out the door quietly, she dodged the sleeping Mabari tactfully. As she walked past, grabbing her boots which were outside the bedroom door, the dog wuffed in his sleep and his legs flailed madly as if he were running through the lush greenery of his old home in Ferelden. As she headed for the door, it reminded her of a simpler time, a time when Malcolm had promised the world to his girls and to Carver. It also made her think of the grimoire that she kept locked up in the chest next to the dining table. Before heading out, she quickly retrieved it from the aforementioned vessel and tucked it on the right side of her body, under her armor. She could ask Anders about the strange passages she had uncovered.

The sun was just rising on the horizon as Claudia stepped outside. She looked out at the soft yellow and orange hues as they chased away the dark blue of the night. It was such a lovely time of day, she thought as she sat down on one of the steps that led down to the street. Her boots, which she had neglected to put on back in the house, slid onto her feet slowly. The supple material adjusted to her narrow foot well. They were a bit worn, though, and soon she would need to invest in a new pair. That would have to wait until she saved up the fifty sovereigns Varric had told her to accrue.

Since the streets were fairly empty at that time of day, Claudia managed to get to the clinic quickly, considering her injury. Even Darktown was fairly lacking in its usual amount of beggars and vagabonds. It made her wonder if the mage would even be awake when she got there. But, seeing as the double doors to his clinic were rising in the distance, she didn't bother dwelling on it. Instead, she knocked on the rightmost door and waited. If she woke him up, she would apologize, but she really didn't care if she did.

Anders answered about a minute later. He looked around a moment before his eyes focused in on Claudia. Judging by the fact that he was fully clothed and looked rather conscious, the woman had to assume that she wasn't the reason why he was awake. "I hope I didn't wake you." Said she, inviting herself into the building without his consent.

When Hawke started to shove her way past him, Anders side-stepped to allow her in. The man had struggled with sleep the previous night. Every time he closed his eyes, the sight of Karl's widened eyes as he sunk the blade into his belly plagued him. The blood, it stained his lithe hands. But, he had been expecting her, seeing as he not only owed her the maps, but promised her a healing. As such, he made sure to not be in his nightclothes when she arrived; that would be far too embarrassing. It wouldn't be as embarrassing as the time that he had gotten so drunk at the Keep that he confused the statue of Andraste for a real woman and attempted to seduce it, but nothing would trump that, he wagered. His attention befell his lady companion, though. She was walking a lot better, and she didn't have her sister there as a crutch. "I'm going to need you to remove the breastplate." He said formally as he showed her to one of the many cots that occupied the space.

"You don't waste time, do you?" Quipped Claudia. Her fingers were already immersed in the leather straps that kept her armor on her body. "The whole 'handsome healer' thing must work wonders when trying to get women undressed." As she loosened the straps, the grimoire she had shoved into it tumbled to the floor. She had forgotten about the item entirely and was not prepared for it to go tumbling out of her clothing so suddenly.

A very slight smile tugged at the corners of Anders' mouth at her comment. Even though he wasn't typically so wrapped up on his appearance, the compliment didn't fall on deaf ears. Women often told him he was handsome, but it meant nothing, like it was a sort of game. A small part of him wished that this time, it was sincere. "It seems you've found out my plan." Joked the man with an equal amount of guile that she had used.

Before he tended to her healing injury, the man picked up the book that had fallen out of the breastplate and set it down next to her on the cot. It was a curious book, and he had the inkling that it was a grimoire, despite the fact that he knew Hawke was no mage. "I'm just going to lift up your tunic a bit and have a look." Anders' thin fingers grabbed the length of the garment and hiked it up. With his free hand, he traced the opening with his index finger in order to see how much it had healed. In his examination, the man couldn't help but marvel over how soft her skin was, even around the wound. Justice, of course, was furious about his host's focus on the silky skin of a woman. This caused Anders to focus on the work at hand and push aside the thoughts that a younger Anders would have lingered on with un-abashed passion.

Without another word, the man's hand ignited in the familiar blue glow from the previous night. With trained skill, he maneuvered it along the cut, focusing every bit of healing energy into her body. His long fingers twitched as they fluttered just above the woman's flesh in their oval-esque pattern that he always moved them in whilst healing. Right before his eyes, the wound closed itself up until there was nothing, not even a scar. Anders' hand desisted its glowing as he sat back and admired his handiwork.

Once healed, Claudia picked up her armor and put it on as though it were second nature. Her hands caressed the cured leather straps momentarily before fastening them with the rusty iron buckle. "I don't think I ever thanked you properly for healing me. I don't want to sound ungrateful or selfish." She knew that she had the habit of coming off as rude to people, just because of the sarcasm. Sometimes, it was almost as if her tongue acted on its own behalf and spewed out remarks that she knew she should have censored once they were spoken. As such, she was trying her hardest not to offend the man. He was too much an asset to scare away.

"Don't thank me." Remarked Anders modestly. He had since picked up the grimoire and took the spot on the cot where it had been stationed. "I'm in the habit of patching people up, just not pretty ones who take pleasure in killing Templars for mages." Without thought, the words slipped from his lips, and without Justice's usual screening. When the realization had hit him, a tint of red flushed the man's face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't assume. It's just…I feel so at ease around you, like I've known you for a long time."

Anders knew that he was making an utter fool of himself as he attempted to fix his blunder. His hand moved along the top of his head nervously as he tried to think of a way to get out of this situation. Had it been a year ago, before becoming a Warden and possessed, he would have shamelessly attempted seducing her and he knew this. Things were different now, even if he still sort of hoped that they weren't. No doubt, he was making Hawke feel strange with his comments; most women did. Velanna used to tell him he was repulsive every time he tried, and the Warden Commander would always off-handedly mention her husband, the king, if he even attempted with her. Hawke, no doubt, had her own way of scorning his advances. "I'm making you uncomfortable, aren't I?"

Initially, Claudia was stunned by his words. Her face was frozen, emotionless as she attempted to figure out what to say. The tongue in her mouth lashed against her teeth with its own response that was in no way premeditated. She liked what he said, though. She enjoyed hearing it so much that she didn't want to sound like an idiot, spewing her usual slew of sarcasms. Men weren't so keen on telling the woman who held a dagger to them that they found her aesthetically pleasing, so she appreciated hearing it, even if she didn't show it. "You could tell me I'm pretty again." Her voice bore the same amount of humor as it normally held, though she wasn't joking. "I might be willing to forgive any discomfort you caused if you did."

A wider, more genuine smile spread across the man's face. His smile was short-lived and fleeting though. Justice was buzzing with his own disapprovals of the woman and of his host's feelings towards her; even if logic dictated that it was nothing but a slight interest in a cute girl. But, he didn't want to give the spirit a reason to make an appearance, so he decided to change the subject. The book she had on her was still in the back of his mind. It still made him wonder. "About this book." He held it up to her as his question.

"I completely forgot that I was going to ask you about it!" Claudia snatched the book from his hands with the dexterity of a thief. She begun leafing through it instantly in search of one of the passages she had discovered. Since arriving in Kirkwall, she had discovered three more that detailed her father's time in Orzammar and him gaining inspiration for new spells from the dwarves. It still was a little odd to her, not that she knew many mages to confront about it. "This is –was my father's grimoire. He was an apostate, like you and like Bethany. I've been reading it, and I've found some passages that are more like a journal. Is that normal?"

Anders looked over her shoulder at the passage she was referring to. In his own personal experience, mages didn't often chronicle their lives in their grimoires, only their spells. He personally had two of the tomes: one for his healing and offensive magic and one for the bedroom magic he had spent years mastering. The only thing he kept a record of was the names of the girls who enjoyed certain spells, but that was more in the name of research than anything. "I've never heard of mages doing that, but most mages would consider it lucky just to escape the Circle. Perhaps your father wanted to leave a record of his life behind, and his grimoire was the only thing he had to write in."

The book was taken from Hawke so he could get a better look at what she was referring to. Her father's handwriting was rushed, hardly legible in some sections, whilst others it was flowery and ornate. It led him to assume that he was in quite a hurry, or was afraid of forgetting what he had to say.

One passage was beckoning to him, though, calling out to him in a sweet voice:

_They sent that new Templar, Greagoir, after me. He's only a lad, no older that eighteen, I'd wager, and quite naïve still. I managed to evade him well, considering my phylactery was destroyed in a 'freak accident' that occurred when the Templars were moving them from the Circle to a safe house in Denerim. But, it worries me still. I'm afraid that they've caught wind of what I've been researching. I can't risk them catching me and finding this book filled with the spells and potions I've been coming across. If they do, I fear that liberating my brethren who are still locked up will be impossible. _

_I think I'll head to the Free Marches soon. I hear it's nice this time of year._

Anders said nothing about the passage he had uncovered. Instead, he shut the book tight and deposited it back into Hawke's capable hands. Both he and Justice were in agreement that they would have to take a good look at the spells hidden within the bound pages to see if there was anything aiding their cause. Though, he had to admit that reading that Knight-Commander Greagoir was once young and naïve was a bit strange. In all of his time in the Circle, the man was stern and humorless. As far as Templars went, there were worse, he supposed. Though, the business with him calling for the Rite of Anullment when those mages summoned all of the demons and became abominations was uncalled for.

"Your father was in the Ferelden Circle?" He was only assuming now, based on the fact that the Knight-Commander and Denerim were mentioned by name. "I thought you said he was an apostate."

"He was." Explained the woman as she tucked the book back into her armor. "He escaped the Circle, and somehow miraculously managed to stay escaped. He used to joke that he was the luckiest blighter in all of Ferelden." There was a touch of sorrow in her tone as she spoke, though she tried to hide it. Anders seemed like a relatively good man, but she still didn't know him well enough to put her feelings out there for a stranger to see. "But, that's enough of 'my life as a faux-postate'. I should probably go let my sister know I'm okay before she has mother pulling her hair out, worrying about me." Claudia rose to her feet with caution. She wasn't accustomed to being patched up so quickly, so when no pain came, there was a slight shock.

Standing up as well, the man had neglected the maps he had promised. Anders was a man of his word and was uncomfortable about sending her on her merry way without them. Hawke knew where he lived, though, so he could almost guarantee that she would barge in, just as she did yesterday, and request her prize that he had tempted her with. "I should give you the maps before you go anywhere. It would be rude of me not to hold up my end of the bargain after you took a sword to the gut on my behalf." He didn't bother waiting for a response. Instead, Anders retreated to the far end of his clinic and begun sifting through a sack where he kept all of his worldly possessions. The maps were rolled up ornately with the seal of the Wardens. Part of him wondered if Stroud even knew they were missing. When he returned to his original position, he handed them to the woman.

"Come with me." Suggested Claudia. Varric would be put in good spirits if they arrived with the maps. And, maybe he had found work for her. Assuming whatever work she could find would be dangerous, bringing a healer around to help would prove useful. "I'm still about forty-five crowns short of what I need to get onto the expedition, and since I deal in killing things for money, I could use a pair of skilled hands to patch up my wounds at a moment's notice.

Without much of a protest, Anders agreed. He grabbed his staff before heading out with her.

The sun was shining high over Lowtown when the two made it to the doors of the Hanged Man. The sculpture that dangled down swayed lightly in the warm breeze that whisked trash through the stone streets as they approached. Though, as Claudia attempted to head into the establishment, the door practically got knocked off of its hinges and out stormed Leandra in a tizzy. Her right hand was clutching a piece of parchment, and while she looked irritated at first, her face softened at the sight of her daughter.

"Thank the Maker! I've been looking for you all morning. Some men stopped by to drop off some important document to Gamlen today, but he was gone by the time they arrived. I would normally deliver it myself, but I think he went to the Rose early this morning, and you know how I feel about stepping foot in that place."

Claudia adjusted her weight to her other foot and gave her mother a look. "I just _love_ going to the Rose. Not only do I get my ass squeezed by all of the horny old men, but I get to look at a bunch of desperate women flounce around in next to nothing and possibly catch a venereal disease. It's a dream come true!" Even though she was being completely sarcastic, she took the document from her mother and headed off towards Hightown before the woman had a chance to scold her for saying what she did. She felt a little guilty, about dragging Anders to a brothel to go get her sleazy uncle.

"I'm assuming that this is a regular occurrence in your every day." Though the man was asking a question, he phrased it in such a way that left her open to avoid the comment entirely.

"Fetching Gamlen while he's pelvis-deep in one of the _working girls_ at the Rose? Yes, pretty much. And she always sends me because Bethany is too soft to know how to handle the lecherous hands grabbing at either set of her mounds of flesh. I won't hesitate to break fingers if someone gets a little too friendly, so I'm dubbed as my uncle's keeper." Claudia knew that she would have always offered to go, even if she hated going to the brothel. She couldn't do that to Bethany, who still had a shred of her innocence left. She found solace in the fact that she was bringing someone with her this time around; she was planning on using Anders as a bit of a shield in order to protect her from getting _commissioned._


	8. Chapter 8

AN: I'm not trying to make excuses for my inactivity, but I thought it fair to notify my readers that over the last week, I've gotten fairly sick. I think at the best, it's a really nasty cold, and at the worst, it's Bronchitis, but the lady at the clinic I go to told me that the earliest I can get in is Wednesday this week (so two days after posting this), and that's not even definite seeing as that's when my doctor is accepting walk-ins, so I may not even be able to see her then. To sum it up, that makes me very upset. If only life were like Dragon Age and I can snap my fingers and have Anders or Wynne use their magic to make it all go away.

On another, less infectious note, I'm possibly going to be working on some pet projects alongside this. Most will probably be Anders or Alistair-related drabbles, since I love them so hard, but I'm also working on a crack one-shot to end all crack one-shots as an inside joke.

Dragon Age Origins and II belong to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

* * *

Despite it being fairly early still, the Blooming Rose was bustling with _customers_ eager to sample the product that the Madame had to offer. Men and women of all sorts were in the bar area, either drinking or socializing amongst themselves, or they were so enamored by their favorite prostitute that they scarcely noticed what was going on around them. But, such was the nature of prostitution; business was steadily flowing in through the brothel doors at all hours of the day, so they kept them open as to not disappoint the customers.

Upon walking into the establishment, Anders gravitated closer to Hawke for fear of one of them being commissioned by some slobbering drunk with too much coin for his or her own good. But, since they were there to help Hawke's mother, who seemed like such a nice woman, he didn't back out now and slink back to his hole in Darktown. "What does your uncle look like?" He inquired, though he was assuming that there would be at the very least, a family resemblance that he should have noticed. Assuming was a habit he was trying to rid himself of, though, so he asked just in case. For all he knew, Gamlen was a blonde with dark eyes and tan skin; Hawke had red hair when neither her sister nor mother did, as it was.

"He looks a bit like my mother, though uglier, surlier, and always squinting as though he's looking at something far away; come to think of it, that describes half of the men who usually are seen…hiring the girls who work here." Claudia laughed internally at the comparison, always finding her jokes far more funny than most of the people around her. She told herself that they just didn't appreciate her _unique _sense of humor, but she knew deep down that it was because she really wasn't funny, just sarcastic in all the wrong times. Still, her eyes were peeled on the men loitering around the establishment. Meeren frequented the place, and she could already hear his squirrelly voice somewhere off in a corner, though would rather not make contact and have to endure him claiming that she was nothing without the Iron and was always welcome back. "I'll know Gamlen when I see him, so don't worry. His usual grim expression sours incredibly when he sees me, and he can't help but voicing his dislike of my father and my mother's choice to abandon her life to elope with an apostate and birth his little blighters every time I grace him with my company."

Without so much as another word, the two scanned the room for any signs of Gamlen. It was clear that neither wanted to ask the Madame if Gamlen was there, and would rather strain their eyes and necks in his pursuit. It would be far too awkward to be thought of as customers and be directed to one of the men or women who sold their craft within these walls. This was a matter of pride, after all, and both of them were too proud to admit that they were uncomfortable in their task of delivering semi-precious documents to the drunk Claudia lived with, who happened to like whores.

Before either found the man in question, three armed men approached a sun-kissed woman at the bar. She was rather beautiful, with dark hair and mysterious eyes; judging by the sparseness of her clothing and the _come hither_ gaze she was casting at everyone in the room, she was one of the girls who called the brothel her home and place of employment. Judging by her facial features, she wasn't Ferelden or from Kirkwall, only adding to her exotic appearance. They exchanged words with the tanned beauty heatedly, but the conversation was lost to both Anders and Claudia.

Suddenly, the men drew their weapons on the woman, who was far from unarmed. She drew her own daggers, which had ornately intertwining carvings in the handles, which caught the eye of everyone who was actually watching the oncoming brawl. Everyone else seemed far too busy with their drinks or with their pleasurable company to even pay them any heed. Soon, the men closed in on the woman, one grabbing her from behind and hoisting her up in the air several inches. The other two men approached, and with skill, she kicked them away, which caused the other man to drop her. Bouncing to her feet, the woman whipped around, the steel from her blades shone in the dim candlelight tauntingly. She smiled to herself, lashing at the men as if to scare them, which seemed to be quite effective, seeing as they went charging past Claudia and Anders and out of the whorehouse. Everything resumed to normal, including the woman's previous position of knocking back shots of rum at the bar.

Thoroughly intrigued, Claudia approached. She had forgotten entirely about her task to go find Gamlen, or rather, chose to abandon what she was sent for to pick this woman's brain. There was no attraction there, seeing as Claudia preferred masculine company above the feminine sort, but the woman looked skilled with daggers, and she was always eager to hone her craft. But, before she could even come within arm's length of the woman, she turned around and sported an interested smile.

"I haven't seen either of you around here before, but, it's been a while since I've been to the brothel. I would have remembered the red head with the fire burning behind her eyes and the pretty blonde _apostitute." _Her smile returned as she finished talking.

Anders sputtered at her remark aimed towards him hit his ears. Sure, as a younger man, he spent a fair amount of time at the brothel in Denerim, but he never took money for his _services_. In fact, the girls seemed eager to offer their skills to him for free, which he was ever so happy to take them up on. The second part, the part about her somehow knowing that he was an apostate seemed far more severe than the first once he had registered what she had meant. He lurched back a bit, half a step behind Hawke. But, he was trying not to assume, so he'd humor her with a question. "A—apostitute? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Most whores have a gimmick." The woman responded, as though it was common knowledge and he was foolish for not knowing that. She motioned for the bartender to pour her another drink, which he did so diligently. "Judging by the strange feathered pauldrons and your slim physique, I'm guessing that Viveka put you up to pretending to be an apostate mage on the run from the nasty Templars and you're seeking refuge. Women always eat up that 'tortured renegade pretty boy' act at these sort of places. Well, the men do too, but I'm sure you already knew that."

With that explained, the dark-haired woman returned her attention to Claudia. She laughed to herself once, over something that was unknown to either of them. "You seem the less touchy of you two, so I suppose I should talk business with you: Do I get some sort of package deal for _commissioning_ the two of you? Some of the other brothels do a sort of 'two-for-one' thing if a client has their eye on more than one of the employees. You look like a spirited one, and those daggers of yours are quite handsome," She motioned towards the handles, which she could see poking out on either side of the woman's neck " and he looks like he knows how to use his fingers and tongue and…other parts."

Though Claudia had somewhat expected to be mistaken for a prostitute, she didn't think that a woman would be the one attempting to commission her. Deciding to take it as a compliment, she shrugged it off, her trademark stupid grin gracing her face. "I hate to disappoint, but we don't sell our trade. Though, I do have to say that he does look as though he would know what to do and where to put it and make it feel just right." With a remorseful glance, the woman offered her apology to Anders, though she wasn't truly committed to it; he really did look as though he knew his way around a woman.

"Please don't talk about me as though I'm not in the room." Pleaded Anders with a note of bitterness. His flushed ears and general lack of hostility was an indicator that the man wasn't truly upset about the theory that he was a talented and generous lover, however. As a Warden, the women didn't often talk about his bedroom prowess with such zeal (seeing as he slept with none of them), but here he was, having two beautiful women make speculations that only helped to inflate his head ever so slightly.

With a shrug, Claudia returned to Anders. Her hand found the feathered shoulder of his garment as consolation. "And for that, I apologize, but don't men usually like it when women make positive assumptions about their talent between the sheets? I know I would find it flattering if all the men I met assumed that I was a passionate and capable lover."

Judging by the lack of response that she received, Hawke figured that Anders had no argument against her previous comment and turned her attention to the bronzed woman who was currently knocking back yet another shot. Though the woman thought it was too early to be divulging in alcoholic beverages, she didn't bother with verbally expressing her disapproval; no doubt she did things that this woman would otherwise find offensive. She wasn't here to question people's choices, so she returned to her previous endeavor. "Actually, I was hoping that you could teach me to fight like you. I'm joining an expedition to the Deep Roads and I could use those techniques I saw you using against the Darkspawn we're going to face."

Laughing, the woman glanced over the pair with interest. "It's as though you're dangling a purse filled with Sovereigns right in front of me and promising that I get to hold it, but I cannot spend a single Bit!" Chortled the woman with enthusiasm, but the glint in her eyes made her true intentions harder to read. "I'll teach you my skills, but only if you take me with on this expedition of yours and I get a cut of your earnings. I'm no fool; I know that there are all sorts of undiscovered Dwarven treasures down there and I want a piece of it."

Claudia knew that it wasn't her place to invite others onto the expedition, but at the same time, if she was going to be made a partner as Varric had suggested, she had full right to invite anyone she wanted to join her. As far as she was concerned, Anders was too much of an asset to their task, seeing as he was an accomplished healer and a trained Gray Warden. This woman, whose name she still didn't know, she seemed more than able in battle as well. "You drive a hard bargain—you leave me little choice but accepting. However, I'm not of the habit of training with complete strangers. This is Anders," she motioned in the man's direction, "and I'm Hawke."

A curt bow was the response that Claudia received to the exchange of her name. "And I am Captain Isabela—er, former Captain Isabela. I can't exactly claim that title without a ship, now can I?"

The name struck a chord for Anders. While the name _Captain Isabela_ was on the tongues of many people living in port towns, he recalled meeting a woman with that name, whose physical features matched the woman before him, if his memory was not failing him. Just the thought alone made the slightest of smirks cross his usually stony face. "Isabela." He let the name roll of his tongue, feeling the way that the syllables felt in his mouth before continuing. "Did you used to frequent a brothel called The Pearl in Denerim during the Blight? If my memory serves me, you used to favor a girl with Griffon tattoos…what was her name?"

"The Lay Warden?" Isabela paused for a moment, mulling over her time in Denerim. The man wasn't wrong in his assumption, but she wanted to understand how he knew such a personal detail about her. In this moment, she recalled the last year of her life, thinking of her hot night aboard The Siren's Call with the now King and Queen Consort and instantly regretting not sticking around to borrow his energetic behind for a week every summer. When her memory befell the Anders person before her, she bolted up excitedly, her face exuding the same sort of zest that her action conveyed. "I remember now! You were that runaway mage who could do that _wonderful_ electricity thing." Her lustful tone denoted that the 'electricity thing' was some sort of dirty spell used only in bed.

One of Claudia's eyebrows shot up at the remark, her curiosity thoroughly peaked. "Wonderful electricity thing? And women aren't beating down the doors to your clinic for a first-hand experience with it because…" If she had known about that little detail upon asking for his maps yesterday, she may have humored Varric's comment about selling her body for what she wanted. He wasn't a bad-looking man, and if he had the capability of super-charging his manhood with magic, it was a wonder that women didn't eagerly present themselves to him.

But, she had entirely forgotten what her mother had sent her there for in the first place. The document she was supposed to deliver to Gamlen rubbed against her abdomen as she adjusted, demanding that she find its rightful owner. Claudia didn't really want to be in the brothel for longer than she had to, so she needed to find her disgruntled uncle.

As it was, the man was heading down the stairs from one of the girls' rooms. He looked rather pleased with himself, that was, until he spotted his niece at the bar. Gamlen stomped her way angrily, working out what he would say in regards to finding his sister's daughter at a whore house. "I didn't know that you like to spend your money here." The man said with a note of bitterness. He expected that she would have a sharp response, seeing as she always did.

"You don't think I'm pretty enough to not have to pay for sex? Why uncle, that hurt a little." With feigned melodrama, Claudia put a hand over her heart. Gamlen wasn't a man who normally bought into her usual sarcasm, so she instantly cut it out and begun rifling around in her armor for the papers in question. "Mother sent me to drop off some papers. I wouldn't be caught in such a place unless it was important." The last part was aimed at shaming her uncle, seeing as he always had a sour spot for her. But, he didn't seem to think much more highly of Bethany either, who was a saint in comparison.

Once she had a firm grip in the papers, she handed them over to the man. Now that her task was done, she chose to ignore him and turn back to Isabela. "Is there somewhere less…sexual I can find you later, or is this your usual haunt?" Asked the woman coolly as she brushed her hair out of her eyes with the back of her left hand.

"I usually stay at The Hanged Man, but I was bored and had a bit of coin to spend, so I thought it would be fun to spend it on cheap women and expensive liquor. You're welcome to visit me there if you ever need some…company." Isabela wasn't a woman of subtlety, which was increasingly evident as she brushed her fingertips along Claudia's toned arm. Really, it would be much more fun if she could get both of them involved, but she wasn't willing to push it. Maybe some other time.

Not bothering to humor the proposition, Claudia motioned for Anders to follow her out. The sun and fresh air hit the two of them shockingly; the Rose wasn't exactly brightly lit, and the air smelled of stale wine and cheap perfume. Every breath sent the crisp, refreshing air cascading into her lungs, expelling out the putrescent smog of the brothel in the process. They got about five steps away from the building before the woman turned to her companion. "I should probably go see Varric about these maps. He's probably driving everyone at the Hanged Man crazy while he waits. You're welcome to come with; I could use the company."

As Anders didn't bother to argue otherwise, Claudia took this as her sign to head down to the Tavern. She didn't say it, but she liked having the mage around. Something about him made her feel comfortable and calmed, which was nice considering that her life was filled with turmoil and strife as of recent.


	9. Chapter 9

Dragon Age Origins and II belong to Electronic Arts and Bioware

* * *

"Come on, Aveline! Please?" Whined Claudia after a good five minutes of pleading with the guardswoman to join her on the trip up Sundermount. Just that morning, she found the amulet she was supposed to deliver to the Dalish near Kirkwall and was positive that they had finally made their trip across the Waking Sea. Being in good spirits, she was ready to finish the task for the witch, but didn't exactly feel comfortable doing it without Aveline. In a sense, the woman also owed Flemeth a debt, seeing as she aided in her passage to the city as well; the Hawkes weren't the only ones who owed something. That, and Aveline was skilled in battle and Claudia was fairly certain that their ascent of the mountain would involve many battles. Isabela already refused, seeing as there was no promise of shiny baubles for her to claim, so she was down a person. Luckily, Varric had agreed to come with for the thrill of adventure, and Anders reluctantly accepted, though muttered something about bad experiences with Dalish women under his breath. Naturally, Bethany was coming no matter what happened; she wouldn't allow her sister to traverse dangerous wilderness to fulfill a bargain with a witch unless she was permitted to join in on the idiocy.

Aveline only sighed as she cupped her forehead in her hand. It was the right thing to do, to accompany Hawke, but at the same time, the other red haired woman had a knack at finding trouble. There was the one time Bethany had to come get her because Hawke had got it in her mind that she could take down a slaving ring single-handedly, but that was months ago. Still, the Hawkes had been like a surrogate family to her, even at the protests of Gamlen; she would hate to see something bad happen to the sisters because she failed to keep them out of the trouble she knew Hawke was bound to find.

In her obligation, she walked over to the roster to check if she had any patrols for the day. All the guardsmen were permitted a day off every week, sometimes more if they had inducted a new guard. Her sturdy index finger ran along the list, pausing once over Donnick's name as she thought of what an exemplary guard he was. When she came to her own name, her eyes scanned the document, finding that it was, in fact, her rest day.

"You're in luck, Hawke. I don't have any patrols for the day, so I will come with. But, I will turn around and leave if this turns out to be one of your shenanigans." A look of warning crossed the guardswoman's face at the words, telling Hawke that she needed to be on her best behavior, lest she be down a companion. And, from what she had been hearing around Kirkwall, the other woman had been up to quite a bit. Though she couldn't confirm the rumors, Hawke had supposedly been seen fraternizing with a suspected apostate, a dwarf she had an inkling was a spy, and a pirate whore. All of this was on top of the fact that Hawke was already a smart-mouthed ex-mercenary who was quite bull-headed at times. This spelled nothing but trouble to Aveline.

Upon Aveline's agreement, a big goofy grin crossed Claudia's face as she charged the woman, only to throw her arms around her neck in a friendly hug. Clearly, the guard was not expecting such a response as she instinctively lurched back at the contact. But, her grip was strong, so Aveline was going nowhere. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" She blurted out at an accelerated pace as she let go. Her smile, though, was ever plastered on her face, denoting the relief she felt about having gotten her way after all. "You know I wouldn't feel comfortable about embarking on perilous and stupid tasks without you chiding me the whole way; now go and get your sword and shield." The addition was to affirm that she wasn't going soft just yet.

Though Aveline wanted to scoff about taking orders from Hawke, she found herself making a bee-line to her bunk, which her freshly polished shield and sharpened sword sat. That was one of the benefits of being a guard hired by the Viscount, she rationalized; she had laundered clothes, her gear was tended to whenever she needed it, and they fed her. When she was in Ferelden, it was her job to make sure that all of that was taken care of for Wesley, and on his meager Templar stipend. Thinking of her late husband brought a pang of hurt to her heart, but she had since gotten past his death; Wesley wouldn't want her living in the past. He would want her to be happy. In that thought, Aveline picked up his faithful shield, which she felt lucky to have, and the regulation sword she was given almost a year ago. Her agile fingers fastened them into the leather straps that kept them on her body.

When she returned, Hawke was small talking with one of the guards casually about weather, if Aveline was not mistaken. As she approached, the guard took his leave, obviously knowing that the mercenary was only there to speak with her; those sorts usually didn't make themselves too acquainted to the barracks. "Ready to go, Hawke?" Questioned the fiery-haired woman, though she didn't really need an answer. Without waiting for one, she headed up the stairs that led into the entry hall of Viscount's Keep.

The two women continued through the Keep and Hightown until they reached the marketplace. Claudia could see Bethany already; the younger noticed her sister's hued hair instantly and waved her arm as if to summon her sibling over. Doing so dutifully, she made her way to her sister, who was positioned near the steps that led down to Lowtown. With her were Varric and Anders, the latter looking around cautiously for what the woman suspected to be Templars. "This is Aveline." As she spoke, Claudia gestured towards the women she had brought with her. "Aveline, this is Varric Tethras—"

"—I know who Varric is; all of the guards do." Interrupted the guard, though her explanation would have probably had more of a place prior to being introduced. But, she felt it was fair as to keep Hawke from wasting any more breath. Varric was a bit famous, though, seeing as he was a famed story-teller and had a hand in so many dealings that went on in the underbelly of the city. "His…erm…stories are quite popular among some of the other guardsmen; some even think that they're the inspiration."

Varric let out a healthy chuckle at the description she painted of him. And while it was true that he wrote about a guard on the edge, he currently was more intrigued by that blonde apostate Hawke had been spending so much time around over the last couple of weeks. No doubt he could weave a tale about a mage battling forces much larger than himself and whatever people stood at his side, with the proper inspiration, of course. Stories were much better when there was a shred of truth to them.

At Aveline's statement, Claudia turned her attention to Anders, again, using her hand to denote that he was the one she was referring to. "This is Anders. He's a Ferelden Warden." The second bit was because she knew that the woman was perceptive and would notice that he was a mage eventually. While Aveline never seemed to voice her outward dislike of Bethany's apostate way of life, this was probably because she felt that she owed the Hawke family a debt. She owed nothing to Anders, so off-handedly mentioning that he couldn't rightfully be turned in to the Templars right off the bat seemed a smart maneuver. Though, she could never be sure if the woman held the same sort of contempt for mages that her deceased husband did.

With introductions out of the way, the group of five left the city and headed for Sundermount. The sun was high in the sky and shone down warmly on the group of motley travelers. Every golden ray of light permeated the heavy armor and cloths that they were wearing. No one was doing much talking, as it was, not that most had much to say to each other. While Varric, Aveline, and Anders were all acquainted with the sisters, they didn't necessarily know one another well. Similarly, it was hard to miss the guardswoman's suspicious eyeing of the staff strapped to the healer's back. This was to be expected, no doubt; the scorn of a life once lived wasn't so easily gotten rid of.

Though, it was Anders who finally broke the silence between the members of the group. He turned to Hawke, recalling how she had introduced him to that Aveline woman. "When you said earlier that I am a Ferelden Warden, you were only partially right." He corrected rather out of the blue. "I've lived in Ferelden about half of my life, but I was born and raised in the Anderfels until I was twelve." Though he didn't feel like elaborating on the reason why he relocated (seeing as it was a particularly sour memory that he hated to recount), he felt that Hawke and Bethany had been nothing but honest with him, so he should show them the same pleasantry.

Claudia, who was heading the group through the mountainous terrain, ducked underneath a felled tree as the mage recalled a bit of his past. Anders spoke with no regional accent, and had never mentioned his foreign heritage prior, so it took her back a bit. As far as she knew, they spoke a different language in the Anderfels, but really, she knew very little about the country. "Really? You sound positively Ferelden to me. But, this _is_ coming from a woman whose idea of cultured is killing foreign targets, so I suppose I'm not the best of judges."

Anders had been following close behind the woman most of the trek. His Warden stamina made it easy to keep up with a fit woman like Hawke, even though he had been otherwise slacking in his own training regimen as of recently. Without that boost thanks to the Joining, though, he knew that he would have been exhausted about half an hour ago. Still, he was cautious and allowed her to find the safer routes up the rocky path before he tried to climb them. "They taught me the language in the Circle." He said, uncensored. The red haired warrior woman no doubt already knew of his magical capabilities based on the questionable glances she kept casting him, so he saw no sense in hiding it. "The First Enchanter was multi-lingual, luckily, and managed to teach me the Ferelden tongue between my training. But, some of the Templars used to make fun of my accent, so I learned to conceal it. It's second nature now; I doubt if I could hold a conversation with an Anders native in the language anymore."

Once Anders had explained his origins and lack of accent to the group, everyone else fell silent yet again. It went without saying that they were all a bit apprehensive, considering the fact that they were going to visit a Dalish tribe, and it was common knowledge that the Dalish did not look very kindly upon humans. Varric was in good spirits, but that was more than likely because he wouldn't be as frowned upon as the three women and the mage. This was one time where his short stature was working to his benefit.

Climbing the mountain seemed to be child's play as they arrived at the entrance of the camp. A sour-looking pair of elves were blocking the way as the five approached. They seemed eager to flaunt their weapons as a warning. "What do you want, Shem?" Growled the male, his steely gaze on the outsiders was unrelenting and cruel.

"I have an amulet that I am supposed to deliver to your Keeper." Stated Claudia simply. She produced the object and flashed it to the pair briefly in order to add truth to what she had said. The woman was on her best behavior now, knowing that any clever quips could wind her with arrows poking out of her skin.

The woman, who seemed to have a bit more sense about her, examined the item curiously before returning to her post. "The Keeper said that you would come, but I hadn't expected a human." Though the elf had refrained from using any racial slurs, she still had a hint of wariness in her voice as she lowered her guard to let them through. "You may enter the camp, but know that you're being watched."

Heeding the warning that they received, Claudia and the others walked through the camp in search of the Keeper. The landships were something quite foreign and new to the woman, especially as the only elves she had ever come in contact with were of the City variety. There were no more than twenty elves in the area, and every one of them had their eyes trained on the outsiders. Claudia didn't blame them; she saw the way that most humans treated their kind, and would more than likely hold the same contempt had it been her.

Before they got far, an elderly woman wearing pauldrons similar to Anders' approached, Her eyes held a wisdom and a kindness that seemed to betray the looks that the others were giving the humans. She seemed drawn to Claudia, as if she knew that she was the one that Flemeth had sent. "You must be the one that Asha'bellanar had sent." Her tone was kind. "I am the Keeper, Marethari."

"I was told to deliver this amulet to you and my debt would be repaid." Said Claudia simply. While she spoke, she took out the object in question and presented it to the elven elder.

"Your task is not done just yet." The woman hummed as she pushed the amulet back towards the human. "You must climb the mountain and perform a Dalish rite on the amulet, and then your debt will be repaid." Marethari paused, abundantly aware that there would be questions about this rite that she had mentioned. "I will be sending my first, Merrill with you; she will perform the rite. When your task is complete, however, I have my own favor to ask: take Merrill with you to Kirkwall."

Though the request struck Claudia as odd, it wasn't her place to judge. No doubt, she had done some things in her life that others would deem as strange or unusual. But, there was one thing that needed to be asked. Where would she find Marethari's first? "About Merrill: where, exactly, will I find her?"

"She just left up the mountain not long ago, so you should be able to catch up."

Claudia offered her words of thanks politely, which seemed to relieve both Bethany and Aveline immensely, and headed up the mountain. They weren't five minutes from the Dalish camp before she noticed a slim, dark-haired elf hunched over and facing the opposite direction. She seemed focused on something, that was, until she heard the crunching of the dead leaves beneath their shoes. The elven girl stood up and approached them, her large, saucer-like eyes darting between each one of the five in turn before settling on Claudia. "Hello. My name is Merrill, what's your name?" She squeaked in a chipper manner, though, her face instantly turned to one of horror. "I'm sorry! Is it rude to ask a human their name? I haven't dealt with many of your kind, so I don't know what's socially acceptable and—I'm rambling, I'm sorry."

Laughing slightly, Claudia couldn't help but finding this Dalish girl to be adorable and oddly charming, in an awkward sort of way. It was endearing, how sincere she was obviously trying to be in her greeting to them and how desperately she didn't want to screw this up. "You certainly are the most talkative Dalish I've ever met." Hummed Claudia in an amused tone. "It isn't rude; you're doing just fine. My name is Claudia, but you can call me Hawke. This is my sister, Bethany. And the other three are Aveline, Anders, and Varric." The woman motioned to each of her companions as she spoke, just to avoid name confusion and having to correct her somewhere down the line.

Not wanting to waste time, the six started to head up the mountain as they conversed. Their pace was leisurely, as though to conserve energy; not only would they have to climb the mountain, but they would have to make their descent as well. It was hard to ignore how strangely silent it became as they entered a clearing. The billowing of the breeze had seemingly stopped, and there was nary an animal frolicking through the brush. Even the birds ceased their singing.

Cautiously, Claudia took a step from the group, groping for her daggers carefully. This didn't feel right. Not five steps away, the ground beneath her feet started to rumble. She bounced backwards in shock, noticing that the earth was rising up in mounds all around the clearing. Skeletal hands with the flesh rotting off started to claw their way out of the dirt. All of them herded towards the center of the area, where none of the rotting remains were coming back to life. The accelerated pace at which this happened left them little time to prepare; they were being ambushed, and by animated corpses.

"By the Maker's diamond-studded codpiece!" Howled Claudia in shock as one of the skeletons snapped its jaw at her in a sort of roar. "I didn't even know this was possible!"

Anders, however, was not wasting time. His right hand gripped the staff readily, whilst his left wove a powerful lightening spell and fired it at the closest skeleton warrior. A self-satisfied grin crossed the mage's face as his enemy's head snapped back; he thought that he had ended it with one blast. However, his opponent only shook off the spell and lunged forward, its rusty sword swinging wildly at the man.

Several more skeletons charged, as though the blast of electricity was their signal to attack. Though everyone was shocked by the situation, it was either stand around like idiots, or fight.

Aveline's shiny armor seemed to hold the attention of the corpses, which resulted in her being ambushed by the biggest amount of them. She bashed her shield into one of them, causing its head to tumble from its shoulders and near Varric's feet. The skeleton, however, continued on, though in a disoriented shuffle. Her sword swung around in a passion, cutting down two of the skeletons to size. To supplement her attack, Bethany blasted the felled skeletons with a couple fireballs. They twitched in anguish before their bones seemed to reduce to ash.

Frustration fueled Varric's attacks. He couldn't fire arrows normally because they were just slipping through the gaps in the bones. However, he was perfectly content with bashing Bianca's handle into the ribcage and pelvic regions of any of the shambling corpses that approached. His skills were reduced to supplementing everyone else's attacks. He felt lucky just to have three mages instead of the usual two. The dwarf ducked out from the middle of the battleground and bolted around the clearing, finding a position nearest Anders. Obviously, Anders could hold his own, judging by the fact that he was once a Gray Warden, but Varric found it much easier to act as a barrier.

Claudia neglected her daggers through most of the battle. One of the skeletons hurried forward towards her, its green flesh hanging off of its bones limply. With precision, she delivered a series of kicks to the ribcage. Some of the ribs cracked under the pressure, but the undead creature seemingly felt no pain, and rose to continue its onslaught. The woman took several steps back, knowing that her blades probably would do little to extinguish her foe.

Luckily for her, Merrill was ready with a stream of ice that froze the corpse. The elven mage twirled around her staff and slashed at the ice with the blade at the base. Instantly, the frozen mass shattered and bits of icy bone went flying around the clearing.

With every last skeleton felled, Claudia sheathed her weapons and approached Merrill. She wiped her perspiring forehead once, a cheeky grin crawling across her face as she stepped closer. "Wow. Could you please keep turning people into frogs for us?"

"But I didn't—" Started the elf, not realizing the joke that Claudia had attempted at first. "—You don't mean literally. I would love to keep turning people into frogs, or freezing them or—I'm ranting again. Let's go."


End file.
